


Mountain Air

by calaverita



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: (after coming out of his shell again), Body Dysphoria, Dreams and Nightmares, Flashbacks, Genji Shimada is a Little Shit, Gentle Kissing, Gentle Sex, M/M, My First AO3 Post, My First Work in This Fandom, Near Death Experiences, Post Blackwatch Genji Shimada, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Shambali Shenanigans, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Trans Genji Shimada, Zenyatta is a prankster
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-10-23 06:20:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10713933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calaverita/pseuds/calaverita
Summary: "Where did you find him?""He was in the snow up above the sanctum."“…Why is he naked?”“I have no idea.”





	1. cyborg ninja climbs mountain, what happens next will surprise you!

**Author's Note:**

> Note: There's no smut in this chapter. Sorry! I have it written but it's for later in Genji and Zenyatta's relationship when they're ready to be more intimate.

Genji Shimada had come here to die. For a modest fee, a caravan from a village below had allowed him to hitch a ride up one of the many vast mountains that drew tourists from across the globe to Nepal. The snow-powdered peaks seemed to howl as the wind swirled down to the village in the heart of the Himalayas. If he was going to do this, he wanted it to do it right. For him, that meant the highest altitude possible, where it would be the coldest and have the least oxygen. The cheek-biting coolth would make him sleepy, and then he would drift off. He chuckled resignedly as he thought of it as a long nap.

The caravan master had insisted he bundle up for the trip, so Genji found himself begrudgingly covered in a pile of blankets in the bed of the main truck. The cold didn'taffect him that much given the sleek, pale exoskeleton that covered what remained of his flesh. It would, however, shut his artificial systems down, and coupled with a low oxygen level, he would finally find himself at peace.

One of the caravan guards called something out in Nepali and the truck stopped, hovering in place over the snow-laden ground. Before them lay a massive complex of buildings between which Omnics milled about in their kasaya robes.The caravan master ambled to the back of the truck to beckon for Genji. "This is as far as we go," she explained. "Is it your first time at the Shambali Monastery?"

"I-yes. Yes, it is."

"Enjoy your visit," she smiled warmly. Genji nodded politely and gave her some more money for her trouble as he climbed out of the truck bed. The cyborg had no business at the monastery, nor plans to visit it. He savored the crunchiness of the early morning snow under his metal limbs. The weather reminded him home–well, what used to be home, anyway–during the winter. The cyborg pored over fond memories of his small baby boots stomping around in the snow that sprinkled the grounds at Hanamura, back when everything was different. When he was different. He shivered and rubbed anxiously at his arms as he tried to find a place to climb further up the mountain. Warm gray formations of rock speared the air at the entrance to the Shambali’s grounds. He did what he knew best: remaining out of sight. 

Genji’s augmented body coupled with his training in martial arts along with his work in Blackwatch allowed him to move quickly and nimbly up the slopes. From above he could get a good look at the monastery’s layout. Four massive statues of Omnics meditating faced each other at the main entrance and four goldenrod banners billowed in the wind between the arches leading into the monastery's sanctum, snow powdering the stones and crevices of the structure. 

Beyond that, Genji couldn’t see much—the sanctum was tall and he didn’t plan on spending much time looking at it. A considerably strong wind made him wobble a bit—he decided to move back from the edge. He stepped into the ankle-high snow and took off the armor that covered his torso, unclipping the top four pieces on his chest and pressing the green button in the middle of his sternum to expose the flesh that remained. This was going to hurt. He didn't care.

As he sat on the snowy earth in a meditative position, Genji sucked in a deep breath and cursed at the pain that traveled through the back of his knees and up his spine. In his contemplation, he wondered if anyone could see him from the monastery below, nearly naked in the snow. He cast the thought aside as he removed his mask, which came off with a hydraulic hiss. After setting the visored mask along with his hair cap down, he unsheathed his wakizashi and stabbed it into the snow above his mask. Satisfied with the meticulous placement of his belongings, he sat back, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. He hated when he was forced to meditate during his martial arts training as a young teen; he could never focus nor clear his mind. Usually, he caught small naps, much to his sensei's dismay. But now he had all the time in the world. No lessons with his sensei, no dates or one-night stands, no Blackwatch missions or criminal empires to dismantle. Peace lay within his reach.

Genji’s cheeks burned, just as they did when he got the scars that now adorn them. Snowflakes whipped against his exposed face like miniature blades. The cold slowly spread throughout his body like knives pulsing in his veins. It wasn’t so bad, he thought, teeth chattering. He figured it would take five or ten minutes before… well. Peace, he supposed. Snowflakes landed in his hair like glitter, melting less and less the longer he sat there. The feeling in his feet went first, quickly given their buried position in the snow. It hurt like hell, but still could not compare to the worst pain he had ever experienced, not even close. Genji quickly lost feeling in his now-both prosthetic arms, forcing themselves to shut down due to the extreme cold. After four or five minutes, he felt oddly warm—having hypothermia had confused his body’s internal temperature, his hypothalamus telling him he was too warm and needed to take everything off. He ignored this and continued working through a hum as his teeth clicked and chattered. His cheeks had numbed along with his legs.

In the distance, a bright aquamarine square appeared. Genji felt exhausted and considered laying down in the snow while he waited. The white, freezing powder enveloped his body like a cloud. The glowing square drew closer, while the snow around his jet-black hair melted and seeped onto his scalp. In his final moments, Genji closed his eyes and opened his mouth to say something, but everything including his brain felt too numb to muster any last words. “Yes, it is” would have to do. He felt as though something had lifted him. This is it, he thought. Memories whirled through his head. Running as his older brother Hanzo chased him through the gardens of their childhood. His mother leaving with floating suitcases in tow and never coming back. Listening to his grandfather read poetry aloud during their walks around Hanamura. Sneaking out late at night to the local arcades and climbing through his bedroom window with plush toys in tow. The way Hanzo looked at him with hatred and shame in his eyes the last time they saw each other. He even thought about the way the caravan master smiled at him, oblivious to what he was about to do. Warmth overwhelmed his senses, his brain trying to make him more comfortable as he passed. And finally, he felt nothing.

After a while, Genji began to hear muffled voices that sounded like they came from above him. Was this all, or did he have to wait? He still felt nothing, but the conversation became more clear the longer he waited.

"Where did you find him?" Asked a sharp, deep voice.

"I had gone up the cliffs for my morning meditation; he was in the snow up above the sanctum," another voice, modulated and smooth explained. The voice continued, "It looked like he was just about to pass. His skin was all red and raw when we examined him; typical for humans exposed to freezing temperatures.”

“…Why is he naked?”

“I have no idea.”

“Well, we can use what supplies we have for him, then send him on his way.” A pause.

"Brother, he was an inch away from death--we cannot simply 'send him on his way.'"

"Then what do you suggest?" The other voice retorted, an attempt to maintain composure clear in the way the words cut through the silence.

"That we keep him here, at least until he is well enough to travel on his own again.” Genji heard a sigh that sounded like it came through an old speaker, then felt himself fading away again.


	2. junkers HATE HIM!!! find out how this omnic achieved tranquility in 5 simple steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pls try this new food, said zenyatta
> 
> no, said genji
> 
> try iiiit
> 
> no, genji said, softer this time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *no smut in this chapter either sorryyyy*
> 
> Thanks to Micah for beta-ing and to Lex for the chapter title!!

Confusion bubbled through Genji's spine as he came to the realization that, somehow, he had survived. A dim lantern hung high above him from the ceiling. He didn’t understand—he had done everything right. It was certain, completely and indubitably. Yet he lay here, warm and covered in blankets, having made zero plans for what he would do if he survived. Now he had to play it by ear. Genji weakly moved his head and let his eyes wander to what appeared to be an Omnic sitting in the corner. They were scrolling through a tablet, unaware of his wakefulness. Swallowing, he cleared his throat quietly, then louder again to catch the Omnic’s attention. The robot shot their head up and beeped in a startled tone. They got up from their chair, tablet in hand, and ran out of the room before Genji could so much as say “नमस्कार.” 

Genji frowned as he sat up slowly to roll his shoulders back. He brought his prosthetic hand up to feel the cracked, irritated skin on the left side of his chest. Clearly, the cold had made its mark. The Omnic from before interrupted his self-examination as they returned with two more in tow. One of them wore a mala composed of floating khaki-colored orbs that adjusted themselves as their wearer passed through the doorframe. The other wore a grey kasaya with hexagonal patterns. Genji immediately recognized the latter as Mondatta, leader of the Shambali. That shiny jaw could be picked out of a crowd anywhere. What Genji had not noticed before and now struck him as odd was how minimalist the three appeared in their designs: most Omnics that he had seen in and out of battle had much bulkier chassis and limbs. The ones in front of him looked they almost as if someone had stripped them for parts.

“–worry not, Cheebo, your haste is much-appreciated,” assured the Omnic surrounded by orbs. The three of them stopped at the foot of the bed. “Hello,” said the Omnic who had just finished speaking, lifting a palm in greeting. Genji gave a wave as his implanted universal translator did its work. “Welcome to the Shambali,” the Omnic continued. Genji said nothing. They continued after a moment of silence, “Do you understand what we are saying?”

“Completely. Universal translator.” Genji pointed to his temple. “From my understanding, most Omnics have something similar.”

“Yes, we–”

“Understand a vast number of languages, thank you, brother,” said Mondatta, the taller of the pair. “You are… human, yes?” He made no effort to subtilize his manner of studying the man’s torso. The nine cyan optics shaped into a diamond on his forehead reflected brightly beneath the lamp on the ceiling.

“Am I?”

“We may be in a monastery, but this is no time for self-reflection. Please answer the question.” The Omnic that Mondatta had interrupted previously put a hand to his faceplate as if trying to hide a smile.

“Okay, okay, yes. I’m human,” Genji replied begrudgingly.

“What is your name?” He asked. 

“Shimada. Shimada Genji.”

“Genji, welcome. I am Mondatta, leader of the Shambali. Given your current situation, I pray it isn’t too presumptuous to assume that you know who we are. Why else would you make such a journey up the mountain?” The cyborg quickly noted how much Mondatta used hand gestures as if speaking to a crowd instead of one person.

Genji thought about how to respond. If he told the truth, they would likely keep him under observation for a while; lying seemed like the better option. “Yes, yes, that’s why I am here,” he lied as he ran a hand through his bedhead, “to meet the world-famous Shambali.” He hoped the last part sounded convincing enough.

“I am sure you did not expect this to be how your arrival would go,” The Omnic in the mala cut in.

“No, not at all,” Genji chuckled nervously, coughing from dehydration.

Mondatta sighed. “Oh, where are my manners–Zenyatta, could you please bring a glass of water for Genji? And some food–there should be some left over from when the children had lunch.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Zenyatta, the Omnic in the mala replied before leaving the room. “Oh!” He stopped over the lintel. “Genji, do you have any dietary restrictions?” The human shook his head. “Understood.”

“You must be thirsty, we did not find much gear with you in the snow. Did you even bring a water bottle on your trip?” Cheebo asked.

“I must have lost it.”

“Climbing gear?”

“None.”

“Then how did–”

“Just don’t worry about it.” Mondatta looked down at Genji. “I have never met a human quite like you before. But I understand–we do not know each other well, it only makes sense to stay guarded. I will leave you be for now, but Cheebo, stay with our guest until Zenyatta returns with his food.” The Omnic holding the tablet nodded.

“Thank you,” Genji said as Mondatta left the room. Cheebo remained in the corner, metal fingers drumming over their tablet. “Cheebo, right?” Genji asked. Their somewhat dim optics, four in a diagonal line on their forehead, seemed to brighten a little as he acknowledged them.

“Yes–hi,” they greeted back. “Did you need something?”

“Ah, no. How long’ve you been here?”

“At the monastery? A few years, but Mondatta and Zenyatta’ve been here since the beginning.”

“I swear, I can never get a word in with him,” Zenyatta muttered dryly as he returned with a tray floating in front of him. A bowl of steaming hot Momo soup and a glass of water sat on the tray with a spoon and napkin. 

“I have to get back to the classroom,” Cheebo said before bidding the two of them farewell.

“Your… brother is quite talkative,” Genji observed once Cheebo’s footsteps trailed off.

“Mondatta is… well, Mondatta, but he means well,” Zenyatta chuckled and gave the floating tray a gentle push so that it perfectly settled over Genji’s lap. “Anyway, here is some Momo soup and water.”

Genji picked up the spoon and scooped some broth into it. The first sip warmed his whole body up, compelling him to try some more. He last ate right before the caravan arrived in front of the monastery. Famished, he wolfed down the momo and drank all of his water in one gulp. “I am glad you are eating well, but you may want to slow down–you have been out for a few days,” Zenyatta advised.

“Days?!” Genji choked.

“Mm, it would surprise you how many people trying to climb in Nepal come with little preparation. May I sit with you?” Genji nodded. “Let’s see…” Zenyatta began as he pulled up a chair and sat backward, arms folded over the top of it. “There was the hiker who got separated from her tour group, but she fared decently since she had more layers on. That was a few months ago. Then the backpacker who took a fall… they healed up nicely and left a few weeks ago.”

 

Time passed quickly, lunchtime doubly so. Genji had gotten his mask back and only removed it when he took his meals, which he insisted on eating in bed. He also had his armor returned to him as well as the rest of his prosthetics. Zenyatta offered to let him read off a tablet and catch up on the world, but he had no desire to engage with the outside. Mondatta had assigned the monk to keep watch on Genji; they both suspected his reason for coming to the mountain but Zenyatta did not pry. Though Genji preferred solitude, he would rather have Zenyatta around than Mondatta.

After a few days, Genji finally asked if the monastery had a place to shower, as his hair had gotten considerably oily during his bedrest. Zenyatta led him to a small bathroom with pale blue tiling. The shower had been built into the wall between a squatting toilet, which sat on a raised platform in the corner under the window, and the sink, which stood next to the door. “Thanks,” Genji muttered to Zenyatta as he left to give him some privacy. 

The feeling of pressure and texture but no temperature on his feet made him feel less grounded when he stepped onto the bath tile. He removed his mask, torso plating, and the pajamas he had borrowed, setting them in the sink before turning on the shower. With a twist of the handle, the pipes behind the wall groaned and brisk water shot out of the spout, making Genji flinch in alarm. After a few seconds, the water had heated up enough for him to step under and let it envelop his body. It streamed through his greasy, black tufts of hair and down the path of the tubing in his neck and over his chest. He slicked his hair back with the water and looked over his body, gently patting his nipple in idleness. The scar under his left breast from his top surgery years ago had faded considerably and blended in well with the curve of his pectoral muscle. 

His fingers traveled up to the scarring where prosthetic and flesh met in the middle of his sternum, brushing over the strained, scarred skin there. He was thankful that this body, unlike the one he inhabited during his initial training in Blackwatch, bore no insignia related to the covert task force, nor its sibling Overwatch. He was not owned by anyone, or anything, he had held up his end of the deal, he reminded himself. Still, he could not rid the association of his body with Blackwatch nor Overwatch, and he hated it. The symmetrical holes in his abdomen nauseated him and he wished he could seal them up somehow. Every so often, he had nightmares about them oozing or bugs crawling out of them, which usually ended with him waking up clammy with sweat.

Apparently, he had stood under the water for so long that Zenyatta knocked on the door to ask if he was alright. Ashamed of using up so much of his hosts’ water, Genji quickly shampooed his hair and washed his chest before shutting off the shower. All the steam escaped through the transom window high above the toilet, leaving his chest freezing and triggering phantom pain in his prosthetic hand. He quickly wrapped himself in a towel from the rack and flexed his fingers to chase the pain away. When he finally felt composed enough, he opened the door.

“I brought you clean pajamas–are you alright?” Zenyatta noticed the tears welling up in Genji’s eyes, ready to stream down his cheeks at any moment.

“I’m _fine_ ,” Genji lied through gritted teeth.

“You are crying.”

“It’s what humans do.” Genji immediately felt a pang of regret after saying that, but he felt too upset to do anything apologetic.

“There is no shame in experiencing emotions.” Zenyatta deflected, offering the neatly-folded pajamas to him.The Omnic’s stoic, nigh-unreadability frustrated Genji to no end. He looked down at the clothes, grabbed them, and shut the door in Zenyatta’s face to change.

He opened the door again a few minutes later with his mask on and old pajamas in hand. “I didn’t thank you earlier for the pajamas, I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted. If you’re feeling up to it, would you like to take a walk with me? There are a few things I need to take care of.” Genji had to admit, it had been a while since he had gotten some exercise. He shrugged. “Sure.” Zenyatta took him to a closet to grab more appropriate outerwear. Together, they had picked out a loose t-shirt that Genji would wear under a maroon fleece sweater, topped by a grey fleece jacket and hiking pants; he insisted on not wearing boots. After Genji changed in the privacy of what he supposed was now his room, he met Zenyatta outside. “How do I look?” He asked jokingly.

“Warm,” Zenyatta deadpanned. They proceeded down the stairs together to the snow-powdered courtyard below.

Tiny boots pitter-pattered outside in the snow accompanied by laughter. A group of very small children had taken to chasing a hen and her chicks around the yard. One of them noticed Zenyatta and Genji and started to run towards the two, holding a tiny chick in her gloved hands. Her classmates quickly followed. “Children, wait!” One of the Omnic teachers supervising them called out, but it was too late. The cluster of toddlers funneled down the snow-cleared path and crowded around him and Genji. “Are you a robot, too?” one of them eagerly. “What’s your name?” “What’s on your face?” “Are you gonna be here forever?”

“Now, now, let’s not overwhelm our guest,” Zenyatta coaxed. “Children, this is Genji. He is a friend who will be visiting for a while.” Genji gave him the side-eye at “a while,” but said nothing.

“Master Zenyatta, the baby broke,” lamented the girl who had run up to them first, holding up the cheeping bird to Zenyatta. 

“Ah, it appears they have a broken wing,” Zenyatta agreed as he carefully took the bird into his hands. “Not to worry, dear Purnima,” he soothed, bringing down one of his orbs to float next to the chick before handing the chirping bird back to her. “Keep this orb with them, and they should heal soon.” Purnima grinned from behind her scarf. “You all will be able to meet Genji later, but right now, we have some important, boring adult things to talk about. Like meditation… and taxes” he told the group. One of the children said “Ew.” “Now, shall we?” he looked to Genji. Once out of of earshot, Zenyatta told him, “I thought you might like a quiet walk instead of a field trip.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that.”

The two of them made their way back to the stable under where the Omnics had put up Genji. “Usually, the children are too afraid to feed the horses, so it has become more of a job for the rest of us,” Zenyatta said while taking a few clumps of roughage from a bale of hay. A few horses milled about in the stables, some drinking from the troughs lining the walls. “Gājara,” he called to a black horse in the corner stable, then synthesized a tongue-clicking noise. Gājara’s ear twitched and she turned to approach Zenyatta, who held out a palm full of hay. Once she reached him, Gājara snatched up the grains. Zenyatta used his other hand to reach up and stroke above her muzzle. “Try petting her withers, she may not take well to a stranger petting her head,” he advised Genji.

“Her what?”

“Where her neck and back meet.” Genji shrugged and held a hand out, making sure Gājara could see it, and set it gently on her back. She whinnied a little and he backed off.

“Don’t worry–here, let me show you.” Zenyatta circled around Genji. “Give me your hand.” Genji obliged, eyes on Zenyatta. Delicate metal fingers brushed under his palm and guided it up to the end of Gājara’s mane. When Zenyatta turned to look at him from the horse, Genji quickly averted his gaze and carefully pet the withers. Zenyatta gently pat his hand and stepped back.

Genji felt odd–usually, if he spent time with someone, he felt obligated to make small talk with them. It made some of his relationships in Blackwatch more awkward than he would have liked. Yet, here, petting the horse of an almost complete stranger in Nepal, he felt at ease. “Next are Pyāja and Mulā.” It took a moment for Genji to process the names.

“Who decided to name them all after vegetables?”

“…Mondatta.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!! <3 Let me know what y'all think! I really appreciate all your feedback.


	3. got ur goat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> zenyatta accidentally hits a nerve, what happens next will NOT surprise u

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for trypophobia at the beginning! ctrl-f to "Are you alright?" if you wanna avoid that.
> 
> At last, an update! Sorry for the radio silence: I had finals and then went on vacation and have been recovering from thyroid cancer and surgery for a few months so my energy isn't at its best!! But now it's summer and I'm home!!!! Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Genji tended to wake up early and stay up late, much to Zenyatta’s concern. He spent the days in which he had enough energy following Zenyatta around the village, doing chores, attending to the children, even sitting in on some classes. The students were delighted to have a new friend to play with and tried to get him to help with their assignments, which he finally gave in to when they would not stop pouting at him.

After a long day of chasing the kids around the courtyard, Genji headed off to shower. He tore off his outerwear and scarf, then removed his mask. The coolth had tinged his cheeks a rosy pink that highlighted the scars outstretched on his face. Frowning, he struggled to remember what he looked like without scars covering his face, before the gash that sliced him in half and the stabs that took out his amber eyes. A pitiful sieving noise made him realize that he had partially cracked the porcelain outlining the sink with his prosthetic hand, the pieces crumbling in a dusty heap on the floor when he let go. He turned on the water as soon as he stepped under the showerhead, not even waiting for it to warm up. 

The smattering of water pelted Genji like tiny icicles. Unbearable tingling weighed down on him like invisible, impossibly heavy armor. Small bugs crawled in the holes on his abdomen, apparently having made a colony. He could not move, body suspended in a tank of viscous green fluid. A quick glance around and Genji found himself in the zen garden at Hanamura, in the same spot where the large bell usually hung. His father Sojiro stood before him on the steps leading up to the bell, beret in hand. Sojiro’s mouth moved, but no matter how hard Genji tried to listen, the tank drowned out all noise.

If only. If only he had learned earlier. If only he had listened to his songs and proverbs and jokes. If only he was there when his father actually had time to spend with him. If only, if only, if only. Genji missed his father’s sweaters and the berets he always wore at home with his dark grey slacks. He had stopped wearing a suit as he got sicker. When Genji last held one of his father’s hats, it still smelled like he had just taken it off. That was more than five years ago, and he had no idea what had happened to the berets since. Genji felt himself dissolving in the tank, fingers splayed against the glass as bugs floated out of the quickly-disappearing flesh and plastic. His father continued speaking wordlessly.

Genji awoke slick with sweat as his chest heaved. Immediately he started checking himself for holes and bugs. He unclipped his mask and began inspecting his cheeks, fingers running over the lengthy scars embedded in his skin.

“Are you alright?” Zenyatta asked from the corner, but Genji ignored him, scratching furiously at his face. Zenyatta approached the mattress and crouched down. “Genji.” He reached out with one hand hovering over Genji’s shoulder.

“Don’t touch me.” Zenyatta pulled back, still crouching.

“Whatever it is that you are doing, please stop,” Zenyatta urged. “You are going to hurt yourself.” Genji slowed down until he finally stopped scratching. The bells outside chimed violently in the wind.

“What were you doing?”

“Why are my sheets all the way over there?” Genji deflected gruffly, gesturing to the pile of blankets near the wall.

“I kept trying to put the covers back on you, but you would kick them off in your sleep every time I did.”

“Oh,” he muttered as he slid and clicked his mask back into place.

Zenyatta sat back onto the floor and asked, “Would you like to tell me what you were doing to your face?”

“No.” The two of them sat in silence for a minute until Genji broke the silence. “What time is it?”

“It is almost three in the morning.” Genji stood up and shuffled over to the end table in the corner to grab his clothes. “Genji?” Zenyatta called.

“I need some fresh air,” he grunted while throwing on his jacket.

“There is a blizzard outside. Perhaps we can play a game instead.”

Genji shook his head and stormed outside without protest from Zenyatta, who predicted his return two minutes later. “What kind of game?”

“Hmm, let me think. Have you ever played Bagh-Chal?”

“Bagh-Chal—‘Tiger Game?’”

“Yes, do you know it?” Genji shook his head. Zenyatta clapped his hands together in excitement. The cyborg could not help but find Zenyatta’s occasional excitability charming. “Would you like me to teach you?”

He produced a holographic five-point grid and floated one orb to each of the four corners. “One player controls four tigers, the other controls up to twenty goats,” Zenyatta explained. “All of the goats must be placed before any of them can move, but in between placement turns are when the tigers, the orbs in this case, can move. Tigers move to one free intersection per turn and capture goats by jumping over them onto a free space. If five goats are captured, the tiger player wins. If all four tigers are trapped, the goat player wins.”

“So you’ll lose goats no matter what.”

“Typically.”

“It sounds like the tigers have an unfair advantage.”

“That said, the goat player moves first. So, goats or tigers?” Genji thought about it, then decided, “Goats. I like a challenge.”

“Very well,” said Zenyatta as he materialized the first goat for Genji to place.

Genji lost.

“Don’t worry, Bagh-Chal takes time to master. I still lose to the children sometimes,” Zenyatta chortled. The deep laugh buzzed pleasantly in Genji’s head. “You managed to trap two of my tigers, at least,” Zenyatta conceded. “I would say that is an admirable result for one’s first game.”

A fingernail of the sun had started to creep over the mountain peak across from Genji’s room, the blizzard having subsided. Genji sat on his mattress, spinning shuriken around his fingers.

“Are you troubled?” Zenyatta asked from the corner. When he did not respond, Zenyatta continued, “I will need to go soon to help prepare the morning meal. Would you like to join me? It may help take your mind off things.”

Genji huffed. “Sure.” The freshly-fallen snow crunched beneath their feet as they made their way to the kitchen. Genji had passed by it a few times on occasion but never cared to venture inside, electing to listen to the idle chit-chat of the chefs and gentle clinking of cooking utensils. The glowing warmth from within beckoned to him and Zenyatta.

“ _ Please _ tell me we are having samosas again,” Genji begged. Zenyatta said nothing as he hoisted a bag of flour out of a cupboard, humming cheerfully, followed by a jar of salt and a small sieve. After setting the ingredients down, he pointed to a flat bowl on the counter closer to Genji. “Could you please sieve the salt and flour together into that for me? I must get water from outside.” Zenyatta peeked around the corner a few seconds after disappearing from Genji’s sight. “And yes, we are preparing samosas.”

“ _ Yooooshi _ .” Zenyatta returned with a cup of water and set it down on the counter for later.

“Once you are done with that, we will want to mix in the ghee.” Zenyatta dropped some into the bowl of flour and salt, then picked up a handful of the mixture. “Just work with a little bit at a time, like so, and mix it until it becomes a dough. After that comes the water.” Genji copied Zenyatta, making a mental note of how his heart jumped a little whenever their hands touched over the mixing bowl. Once they finished working the dough, Zenyatta wrapped it in plastic and let it rest on the counter. “Now for the fun part.” He grabbed an armful of various spice bottles from a shelf and set them down. “There is a bag of dried peas in the corner, could you fetch it for me? We will need to boil those and the potatoes.” Genji nodded and hoisted the bag into his arms once he reached it, cradling the sack like a baby. Zenyatta pulled a small pot out from under the stove and poured the water into it before setting it over a burner. “Forgive me, I have not asked about how you are doing.”

“I'm fine,” Genji shrugged.

“No, I mean… well, we have not really broached the subject much; it is a touchy one.” Zenyatta hesitated before speaking again. “You realize why I must continue to ensure your safety, yes? Why I have stayed with you?”

“There’s really no need to worry about me. I'll be gone soon enough.” Zenyatta flinched in alarm and Genji stammered “F-from the village, I mean. Not from… well, you know.” He gestured vaguely with his free hand while the other continued to hold the peas.

“Why would you come here to commit such an act?”

“I was in the neighborhood,” Genji said dryly, fiddling with the bag of peas until he had torn the corner of it open. Zenyatta said nothing, but his silence implicated his dissatisfaction. Sighing, Genji continued. “I wanted to do it in a place that fit how I felt. How I still feel.”

“How long have you been traveling?” 

“A few months, maybe a year, I don't know anymore. I stopped counting when I realized what I wanted.” The water in the small pot started to simmer as Zenyatta began peeling and chopping potatoes.

“Does anyone know where you are?”

“Why do you care about any of this?” Genji asked warily, plucking a handful of peas from the bag and dropping them into his mouth.

“I ask beca- Genji, what are you doing?” Zenyatta snapped his head to locate the crunching noises and looked at Genji, who had the expression of a cat who had just eaten a canary. The mouthful of peas had rendered him speechless. “We are supposed to cook those,” he chided amusedly, dropping diced potatoes into the pot before borrowing the pea bag to pour out a few cups for cooking. “If you are not ready to talk, we do not have to,” he lilted as he handed the bag back to Genji.

“I have not kept in contact with anyone since beginning my travels. Staying attached to them was too… risky.”

“You fear they would try to stop you if they knew. And there is precedent for cutting ties.” Zenyatta’s question, which came out more like a statement that answered itself when Genji pursed his lips. “I understand how that feels.”

“I'm not so sure you do,” Genji retorted.

“If you think so,” concluded Zenyatta before jumping to a different subject. Genji grit his teeth in frustration at the monk’s concession. “Apologies, I did not mean for that to sound sarcastic.” The sentiment caught Genji off-guard and he softened a little, shifting on his feet with the bag still in hand. “So... long until the samosas are done?”

“Well, once we cut and fold the dough into chapatis then stuff them, we can fry them. Would you like to help me fold and stuff them?”

“Show me how those fingers work.” When Genji didn't know how to get out of an awkward situation, he tended to try diffusing it by flirting.

Zenyatta responded by beginning to fold a chapati. “Do as I do.”

“Right, okay,” Genji muttered, following along and shaking his head to himself. They both reached for the spoon in the saucepan at the same time to put the filling on the chapati and bumped hands again. “After you,” suggested Zenyatta, not moving his hand from where it hovered over saucepan. “Just take a small amount and put it in the center of the chapati.”

Genji raised an eyebrow under his visor and did as he said. “And then?”

“Follow my lead.” Genji obliged, eyeing the graceful way with which Zenyatta's fingers flowed and snapped into place with each movement of the dough. “Then we finish seal it with a few drops of water on the edges.” Zenyatta waited for Genji to finish folding and sealing before moving on to make the next samosa. “Yes, just like that!”

“They're so cute,” Genji said quietly to the little samosas he had folded so far, picking one up to put in his mouth.

“And now we–Genji they are not fried yet.”

“Oops.”

 

“The key is placing your goats on the edge,” Purnima explained over her morning meal, cramming tiny slices of apples into her mouth. “The tigers can’t jump over them if they’re in corners or have goats or other tigers behind them!”

“Huh. Thank you for the tip,” Genji smiled at her and then narrowed his eyes at Zenyatta, who sat diagonal from him.

Another child who sat next to Zenyatta jumped into the conversation. “Last night, I dreamt I was in a car and it was on the ocean and um, a shark was teaching me how to drive but I couldn't reach the um, the go button.”

“How interesting,” said Zenyatta.

“I don't think I dreamt anything,” Purnima sighed. “What about you, Genji?” She asked before realizing he was in the middle of chewing a samosa. He held up a finger and swallowed, then spoke.

“I…” he trailed off and frowned as if in deep thought. “I can't remember,” he lied.

“Oh! What about you, Master Zenyatta?”

“I do not sleep!”

“Oh! I'm sorry,” Purnima said and looked down at her fruit.

“Do you have… is-mommy-a? My dad gets that sometimes.”

“My dad is a vegetarian,” Purnima whispered to her classmate.

“No, no, I just do not require sleep to function. Sometimes I wish I could dream, though,” Zenyatta replied. “And eat. How are the samosas? Genji helped me make them this morning.”

“Amazing!” a third child interjected with their mouth full.

 

After their meal and morning meditation, the children followed their teachers to their classrooms while the youngest of them stayed with Zenyatta and Genji.

“It snowed quite a bit last night, so today, we are going to take a short field trip to play in the snow!” Zenyatta announced. The toddlers jumped up and down in their puffy snowsuits, one almost falling over in their excitement. “Now, everyone, let us join hands so that we can stay together.” Zenyatta took two tiny, differently-mittened hands in his. Genji followed suit, glancing briefly at the Omnic’s hands. They made their way to a rather snowy area in between buildings.

As soon as they all let go of each other’s hands, one of the two-year-olds fell face-first into the snow and started crying. Genji crouched down instinctively to help him up and brushed the snow off his goretex coat. "I hate snow! I hate it!” The toddler shouted, stomping his boots in the snow. A few of his friends had already started playing without him, one of them suggesting they dig to Peru.

“Now now, you will get your friends covered in snow too,” Zenyatta coaxed, wiping his tears away. “Would you like to build a snowman? Or a snow Omnic? A Snomnic?” The boy couldn't help but giggle and ran over to play with the other children.

Out of earshot and now standing next to Zenyatta, Genji asked, “Why does he hate snow so much?”

“A few weeks ago one of the other children put a snowball down his shirt so, it’s… a phase. Hopefully he will get back to liking it again soon because, well, look around!” Zenyatta chuckled.

Genji rolled his eyes. “Sounds like something a kid would do. Speaking of looking around, of all the places for the Shambali to go, why Nepal?”

“It is peaceful, secluded, the perfect place to seek enlightenment,” Zenyatta answered while keeping an eye on his students.

“It must have taken a long time to get here and to get the word out.”

“That it did, but once we figured out our mission, the Iris helped guide the way.”

“The… Iris… right.” Genji squinted at him.

“I understand your skepticism. A group of Omnics following some higher being, you cannot help but wonder how that's no different from following one’s programming.” Genji blushed guiltily but did not admit that Zenyatta hit the nail on the head. “It manifests differently for different people. What we know is that it gives us a reason to live beyond what the world thinks we were made for. It tells us we are more than our coroutines, that we can transcend our original purpose.”

Genji shifted uncomfortably, too nervous to ask what transcending one’s purpose meant for an Omnic built to follow humans. He already knew the answer for some. “Whose bike is that?” He pointed to an old, steel blue motorbike leaning against the wall of a building.

“Ah, that is one of the bikes we use when we make deliveries down the mountain,” Zenyatta explained. “It may not look like much, but it can make decent speed on the declines here. We've taken turns on it. Cheebo wants to outfit it for off-roading, but we don’t have the parts here and it's a bit too bumpy to risk anything that reckless.”

“What, afraid of a little bump and grind?” Genji smirked.

Zenyatta played along. “I have nothing against grinding. In fact, do you know what really grinds my gears?”

“What?”

“My other gears!”

Genji snorted, “God, you're worse at making jokes than Commander R-” he stopped himself.

“Who?” Zenyatta tilted his head. 

“No one. It doesn't matter.”

“So, you had a commander. I guessed you had to be some sort of soldier, given your sword.”

“Do you... like my blade?”

“Do you always flirt when you’re guarded?” Zenyatta retorted. Genji gasped indignantly and scrunched up his face. “I do not have reservations against it, it is just something that I have noticed.” Genji said nothing. “Is that why you show so little of yourself, or at least think you do? Is that why you ran away? Because you fear betrayal?”

“That's  _ enough _ !” Genji shouted, startling some of the toddlers whose eyes were on the two of them.

He stormed off to the bike and climbed on. “Genji, wait! I am sorry!” Zenyatta chased after him. With a twist of the key, the ancient engine roared to life. Genji revved the handlebars and the bike sped forward. A cloud of powdery snow blew up in Zenyatta’s face as Genji took off on the bike. He veered around a sharp corner and then another, thankful he had at least some experience in biking from his frivolous life in Hanamura. Now at the edge of the village, the wind sounded like it could swallow him whole. The bike backfired and bounced Genji up in his seat, apparently not used to going this fast. It sputtered forward and he persisted despite the rickety terrain. He just needed to ride.

The wind picked up, stinging at his eyes. He had had it with Zenyatta trying to pry him open like one would an envelope, he would ride down the mountain and–

 

Fall.

  
  
  


And fall.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


And fall.

He had failed to careen around a cliff and flew off the bike, which skidded to the edge. Genji screamed as he fell into the foggy abyss. His life flashed before his eyes again and he held up his arms to brace for whenever impact came. It arrived much sooner than he had expected. He cussed and groaned with each tumble until he grabbed a thin guard rope in his desperation to hold on to something, anything. 

Eventually, he slowed down and stopped just short of the slope’s edge, heart pounding and lungs hyperventilating. His head swam sluggishly. When he had finally calmed down enough, he pushed himself up out of the snow and tried to scale his way up the cliff. The ice refused to give him purchase after his several attempts. Wind roared around him, but above he could hear people calling his name: tiny voices, gentle voices, sharp voices.

“Help!” He shouted hoarsely. “Down here!”

“Genji?!” Zenyatta shouted from the foggy clifftop above. “We’re sending down a rope! Hold on!” A few seconds later, a thick cable flew down and hung in front of Genji. Zenyatta called out, “Tug on the rope twice when you have it wrapped around your arms and feet, we’ll pull you up!” Genji looped his arms around the rope and curled his feet around it, giving two firm tugs once he was ready. “And, heave!” Another voice–Mondatta–commanded. An electric winch anchored into the ground slowly pulled him up to the top, where Zenyatta, Mondatta, and a few other Omnics waited anxiously. One of the teachers corralled Zenyatta’s students, who had followed him, away from the cliff and back to the village. Zenyatta knelt at the edge and pulled Genji up and over, who clamored towards him and tackled him to the ground in the process. Genji lay there panting on the Omnic’s motionless chest, eyes wide.

“Breathe, just breathe, Genji.” He felt Zenyatta’s hand rub his back. “You are safe. You are okay.”

“I could've been dead, I could have died,” Genji whimpered. He felt Zenyatta’s other arm wrap around him and squeeze him gently. His second near-death experience in just a few weeks had made him realize how unready he was to die.

“Genji, I am so sorry that I upset you. If something had happened to you, I…” Zenyatta spoke again, softer this time. Something in his chassis whirred, low and gentle. “I would never forgive myself.”

“Are you hurt, Genji?” Mondatta cut in, towering above both of them in their post near-death embrace. Zenyatta let go of Genji and looked up at his brother.

“Wh–I–no, I'm fine,” Genji stammered and rolled onto his back with a huff. “Just shaken, that’s all.”

“It may serve you well to retire to your room,” suggested Mondatta. 

“I agree with my brother. I would be glad to take you.”

Genji thought twice about flirting in front of Mondatta. “That is… probably for the best.” He sat up slowly and Mondatta pulled him up, then he helped Zenyatta up in turn. The two dusted their clothes free of snow and headed back to Genji’s room. When they arrived, Genji took off his clothes until he had stripped down to his long underwear and t-shirt. “Zenyatta?” Genji asked, sitting on the mattress.

“Yes, Genji?”

“Can you stay with me?”

“I am with you.”

“No, I mean–can you, ah… hold me? Like you did before. I just… need to feel grounded right now.”

“If you are comfortable with that, yes, I can.”

Zenyatta made his way over and sat down next to Genji on the twin extra-long mattress. Once settled, he wrapped his arms around Genji and pulled him closer to his chest. The warmth of the Omnic’s metal chassis surprised Genji as he curled up against it with far fewer layers on than before. He felt Zenyatta’s hand rubbing circles into his back.

“I wish I wasn’t like this.” Zenyatta said nothing when tears percolated in Genji’s tear ducts and he took off his mask with a hydraulic hiss. “I wish it wasn’t so hard.” Trauma and grief swirled in his head while hot tears stung his eyes and ran over his scars. “I want my body back. I want my life back.” He shuddered and let the tears stream down the metal of Zenyatta’s chest.

“I know, I know,” the Omnic murmured.

“I wasted… so much time. So, so much.” Zenyatta did not ask what he meant, opting for holding him in silence.

“I should have listened… I should've… I... was such a fool,” Genji sobbed. Zenyatta thought about what to say and finally spoke.

“Whatever happened, when you are ready–and you do not have to be, ever–I will be here to listen. And I will not ask you about it before then.”

Genji wiped his nose and hiccuped, “Why do you care so much about me? Why are you doing all of this, putting up with me, making food for me, holding me, why?”

“Because I know you can feel whole again. And I want to help you attain that. It may not happen now, or in a month, or even a year, but it will happen.”

“It will happen,” Genji echoed softly.

And so it would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for readin'! Let me know what y'all think. Also, I realized in the middle of writing it that the part where Genji falls off the cliff is based on a traumatic experience I had when I was eleven and almost died because I skied off an icy cliff and onto a closed double black diamond run full of trees, grabbed a guard rope as I was flying, and kept rolling until I stopped right in front of a tree. If I hadn't grabbed onto that guard rope, well... I'm glad I did ._.
> 
> ALSO, just to clarify: yes, Genji is trans and never had bottom surgery, he was just making a dick joke


	4. this is my roof it was made for ME

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oh no he's everything

After a dreamless sleep, Genji awoke to find himself in Zenyatta’s lap. Soft chimes stirred him out of bleariness. He looked up to see the orbs from the monk’s mala slowly rotating around him, rhythmically ringing in time with bouncing.

“Are you awake?” The Omnic’s voice eased Genji out of his slumber.

“Mm,” Genji answered and sat up slowly, accidentally bumping a few orbs in the process. Two candles flickered on the table in the corner. Did Zenyatta get up to light them then come back to sit on the mattress while he napped? “Why are your… why are those making noise?” Genji rubbed the rheum from his eyes and blinked in confusion.

“It helps me focus while I meditate. Would you care to join me?” Genji shook his head and rose from the mattress. “Not in the mood for sitting right now.” Zenyatta drew the orbs back to their idle position around his neck.

“Shall we tend to the horses? I was going to while you slept, but since you are awake now we could go together.”

Genji shrugged and hopped off the bridge outside his room to the stables below while Zenyatta took the stairs. When he entered the stable, Gājara trotted towards Genji with a mouthful of roughage. “Hey–hey now,” he giggled as she nudged him with her head, dropping some grain on his feet. “I guess you missed me.” Genji grabbed a curry comb from a bucket to brush her down. “Have you been nice to your friends?” He eyed the other horses behind her. They ignored him, focused on Zenyatta grooming them instead. Gājara tried to nip at him but he managed to gently push her nose away.

“She seems to have taken a liking to you, Genji,” Zenyatta observed from where he stood combing Mulā. “Remember, small, circular motions with the curry comb.” Once he finished combing, Genji took a dandy brush to scoop up the dirt the comb had exfoliated.

“I always wanted a horse as a child,” said Genji.

“Oh?”

“My father–he did not think I could take the responsibility.”

“Understandable, horses are a big–”

“So I stole a horse to prove him wrong.”

“You did _what_?” Zenyatta stopped brushing and looked at him incredulously, laughing through his question.

“I snuck them into my room and kept them secret for a week. The whole place was a mess, you should have seen it! Hay everywhere. Eventually H–” Genji faltered and looked down. “My brother found out because of the smell. I had been shoveling refuse and hiding it in the gardens below my windows,” he admitted sheepishly.

“What happened then?” Zenyatta was now fully invested in the story, furiously but gently grooming one of the horses with a brush.

“My father made me return the horse to their owner, along with all the gear I stole, and mother made me clean up the mess I had made. It was probably one of the worst experiences of my life. They decided that was punishment enough.”

“You seem to have a penchant for stealing,” Zenyatta noted.

“Only when I want to make a statement.”

“And stealing that bike stated what, exactly?” Zenyatta asked. Genji thought about it, then shrugged.

“I see.”

“No, wait, I’ve got it: I wanted some peace and quiet away from everyone.”

“See, now you understand why you did it and can work towards improving that.”

“You are not my therapist.”

“No, but I am your friend, am I not?”

“...Yes…” Genji finally admitted.

“Friends take the time to hear each other out. As your friend, I want to help you deal with impulsivity.”

“You still sound like my therapist from Blackwatch, just replace ‘friend’ with ‘therapist.’”

“Blackwatch?”

“Shit. Forget I said anything.”

“As in Overwatch? They helped rescue my siblings in London!” Zenyatta’s orbs separated and vibrated with emotion.

“That was not me. But, there was one person there, I think.”

“I remember Mondatta telling me of a man in a cowboy hat rescuing him. A strange way to dress during a rescue operation,” he mused.

“You have no idea.” Genji rolled his eyes and picked up the third and final brush to finish grooming Gājara.

“So, you worked in Overwatch.” Zenyatta braided Pyāja’s mane while still looking at Genji.

“I don’t want to talk about this right now. Anyway, I'm done brushing.” Genji said sternly, dropping the brush into the bucket and petting Gājara before hopping out of sight. He pulled himself back up onto the bridge and scaled his way up the roof of the small shrine across from his room. Carefully balancing his feet, Genji perched himself on the tip of the roof.

“Genji!” Zenyatta called, a hint of frustration just present enough in his voice for Genji to detect it. A minute later, Zenyatta stood on the balcony below Genji with his hands on his hips. “What are you doing up there?”

“Watching. Have you never been up here?”

“I do not make a habit of climbing things, so I am afraid that I have not.” He continued to hold his hands on his hips, then glanced around and asked, “What are you watching?”

“People. Come up here.” Zenyatta hesitated, looked around, then jumped back onto the protective half-wall surrounding the deck. He hopped onto the corner pillar with one foot and bounced his knee in place a few times before jumping onto the roof, feet using the gutter for purchase.

“Have you–agh, done this before?” Zenyatta asked while pulling himself up to the second level of roofing.

“Here? Of course.” Genji slid down from the top of the roof to lean back next to him. Zenyatta took in the view of the village below, then gazed up at the shrine and sanctum that sat carved into the mountainside.

“Ah, I never realized how different it looks, even just a few feet above everything. A wonderful, fresh perspective,” Zenyatta mused.

“You see all sorts of things you normally would miss. Like–over there.” Genji pointed to a small child accompanied by an Omnic carrying a lantern. The two of them appeared to be herding a chicken around the corner. “What do you think they are up to? I think the kid is secretly hoarding eggs and the Omnic is helping.”

“Do you really? That is more than just a light accusation, Genji.”

“No, no, I’m just making up a story. Now you try.”

“Hmm.” Zenyatta scouted the area until he found an Omnic couple walking arm-in-arm in their saffron robes. They stopped and the shorter one pulled the taller figure closer until their faces touched.

Zenyatta feigned a gasp. “Hmm, I had heard talk, I did not realize the rumors held any substance.”

“See? You’re a natural.”

“No, I mean there are actual rumors about those two.”

“Oh,” Genji chuckled nervously. To his surprise, Zenyatta joined in for a brief moment, then sat silently. It hurt how much Genji wanted to hear him laugh again.

“So, I am guessing this skill of people-watching came from somewhere else?” Zenyatta spun an orb on his slender fingertip. Genji had not met someone so genuinely interested in hearing what he had to say for a long time.

“Yeah, I used to do this all the time in Hanamura.” He pursed his lips and frowned under his visor as soon as the sentence had left his mouth.

“Is that where you call home?”

Genji swallowed and pushed his hair back. Zenyatta offered him the orb, which he took and spun in his hands. After a long silence, Genji muttered, “Not anymore.” It hurt to say it out loud, even though he had known it for years. Discomfort prickled at the back of his neck and warmed his cheeks.

“Genji Shimada, of Hanamura…” Zenyatta let the sentence hang there like a mourning drape between them. “So you belong to the Shimada Clan.” His voice jumped an octave lower; it was a statement, not a question.

“I do not ‘belong’ to anyone.” Genji hissed through gritted teeth, then sighed. “My brother and I…” He stopped again to examine the orb.

“If you do not feel ready, you do not have to tell me.”

“No, no, it’s… fine. My brother Hanzo and I, we lived in a house. A castle. Every spring the cherry blossoms drifted into our garden. Sometimes, so many cherry blossoms would cover the ground that you could make angels out of them. It's… a sleepy tourist town aside from that, a suburb of Tokyo. There wasn’t much for a kid to do there besides spend all day in the arcade or running around town.” Zenyatta sat attentively, looking up as if trying to picture it in his mind.

“Sometimes I snuck out at night, with Hanzo or by myself if he was too tired to go play at the arcade. They'd let us in for free and I thought it was the same for everyone else. Then we would go grab ramen at Rikimaru.” Genji huffed when he noticed Zenyatta looking skyward. “I know this is just a dump of information, sorry, I–”

“No, please, continue,” Zenyatta encouraged, now looking at Genji. He blushed under his mask, thankful that he had not taken it off to wipe the sweat from his cheeks yet.

“Right, okay.” He continued, surprised at how good it felt to talk about all this, how effortlessly words streamed from his mouth when Zenyatta was listening, “Father and Mother often had guests over. We were not to interact with them unless our parents specifically told us to. It was... to keep us safe, I’m guessing. Or ignorant. Both, probably.” Genji gently rolled the orb back and forth between his hands. “Every so often they threw these grand parties and we got to invite our friends over. Sometimes things would happen during the festivities and, well, one or two less people would continue to visit. We thought it was normal.” He did not care to bring up the goldfish or New Year’s incident.

“‘Things?’”

“Someone would get too drunk or rowdy. Sometimes, they…” Genji shook his head. A story for another time. “One time a woman knocked over a vase. I don’t know what happened to her.” Genji looked askance, now focused on an Omnic making their way into a building. Once they were out of sight, he snapped his attention back to Zenyatta. “Oh but the gardens! And the koi!” Genji shook the orb in his fist with enthusiasm. “I used to sneak out just to visit them. Sometimes my grandpa and I snuck them extra helpings of food during feeding time. I had a big blue one, he was my favorite.” The cyborg lay back against the roof and sighed, resting one hand on his chest while the other fiddled with the metal sphere. “I… I can’t remember the last time I told anyone about where I grew up. College, maybe.” That left a sour taste in his mouth.

Zenyatta lay back next to Genji, fingers laced together over his chassis. “Do you miss it? Home?”

“I don’t have a home anymore.” Genji held up the sphere, gaze tracing its ornate patterns while he unclipped his mask to wipe off his face. “But I would be lying if I said I didn’t miss Hanamura.”

“I miss where I used to live too, sometimes,” Zenyatta sighed.

“Oh?” Genji slicked the sweat off his cheeks from wearing his mask for too long, pushing the texture of the scars to the back of his mind for now.

“Years ago, I worked in Tel Aviv. By the time the Omnium made me, humans had already wrested control of it back, near the end of the Crisis. They assigned me to a disaster cleanup crew,” Zenyatta explained.

“So you have always tried to help people.”

“It was what we were built for, before our awakening. What all Omnics were built for, when you think about it. Some of us just aid humans in different ways, or not at all. We are more than our programming.”

“All the way from Israel to Nepal,” Genji muttered. He wanted to ask more, but the plummeting temperature had made it impossible to talk without his teeth chattering, which Zenyatta took notice of.

“Perhaps we should head inside,” he suggested. Genji nodded vigorously and put on his mask. He tossed the orb back to Zenyatta, but instead of him catching it, it gravitated back around his neck with its fellow spheres. Letting his legs hand over the edge, Genji slid down the roof and landed almost silently on the deck below. Zenyatta made his way down more hesitantly.

“Jump, I can catch you,” Genji said after turning around to look up at the Omnic, whose legs dangled over the roof gutter.

“Are you sure?” Zenyatta asked.

“Trust me,” insisted Genji, who held out his fleece-coated arms. Zenyatta pushed himself off the ledge and found himself in Genji’s hands, which rested at his hips. Genji’s arms easily circled the monk’s petite waist. His eyes wandered down to the pistons connecting the Omnic’s waist to his chest. The intricate folds and twists of wire that wove in between metal and plastic. Genji had not realized that Zenyatta was taller than him until now, his eyes level with the Omnic’s brass chin. Worried that he had been holding Zenyatta longer than socially acceptable, Genji let go and stepped back, eyes darting around nervously. He thanked himself for putting on his mask, which hid most of the pink now adorning his visage.

“Thank you for helping me down, Genji.”

“Mhm,” he managed.

The two of them did not talk much once inside, as Genji fell asleep curled up on the mattress as soon as he took off his jacket. Zenyatta sat floating in a meditative position for a while, trying to clear his mind and connect to the Iris, but Genji’s soft snores kept drawing him out of his focus. Figuring the man would sleep for a few more hours, Zenyatta quietly got up and slipped outside. As he passed over the lintel, he heard someone call his name. He spun around to find a sleeping Genji holding a bundle of blankets against his chest. Zenyatta had noticed that, lately, the man tended to talk in his sleep more often. 

The wind whistled past him and swirled through the snowfall. Once Zenyatta reached the edge of the village, he made his way up the incline dug into the mountainside and towards the shrine. Snow got between the small pie slice-shaped crevices in his feet, but he paid no mind to it. He thought about the first time he made the trip up to the shrine, back when they discovered the monastery years ago. Relatively, it looked the same save for the upgrades and innumerable repairs they had made to the buildings. Getting running water to work took over a month. Both he and Mondatta agreed that they should keep the paint and roofing the same colors; luckily they had accrued donations for doing so. The main problem was matching swatches and tile samples. Zenyatta looked down at the sleeping village, a sense of awe and pride swirling within him as it had when he looked at it from the roof with Genji. He felt the sudden urge to check on him, but knew they both could do with some solitude. It would make seeing him in the morning all the more rewarding, he told himself. _Rewarding_? Yes, he needed solitude and time to think.

Once he reached level ground again, Zenyatta made a beeline to the large meditation hall. A few Omnics milled about outside, speaking in hushed voices out of courtesy. He greeted them with a wave and headed down the steps into the candlelit room. Mondatta sat at the front, leading the three dozen or so Omnics in meditation. After finding an empty spot on the long green rug in the middle of the room, Zenyatta joined in, turned off his optical cameras, and settled into position.

Although Mondatta guided the group aloud, Zenyatta opted for going at his own pace, turning off audio input. In his mind, he pictured snow drifting onto a walkway, powdering the stones white after several minutes of visualization. He watched the wind sweep it all away like a completed mandala on a beach, and the cycle began again. His vocal processors hummed quietly. Suddenly, in the midst of the snowfall, Genji sled by on the path, making Zenyatta let out a startled “Hm!” that did not go unnoticed by his fellow monks. He shook it off and drew his mala closer to himself as he tried focusing again.

Instead of snow, he imagined a rainstick turned over, the beads inside all funneling to the bottom until it flipped over again. Everything in cycles, he told himself. The orbs in his mala spun and chimed rhythmically as his focus deepened. Everything went well until he thought of Genji again, eating a bag of dried peas. His mala crashed into itself and the balls dropped on the floor one after the other. Now he was sure that he had made a spectacle of himself and re-activated his optics and audio input.

“Are you alright, Brother Zenyatta?” Cheebo asked from two rows in front of him.

“I apologize for the interruption, I lost my focus. Please excuse me,” He brought his mala back to his neck and got up to leave through the doorway behind Mondatta. The Shambali leader said something quietly to another Omnic and they took his place while he followed Zenyatta out. The group watched the two of them leave, then returned to meditating.

“Brother,” Mondatta called after him once they were both outside. Zenyatta started power-walking, then began to float off. “Do not float away from me!” He ignored him and proceeded to the stupa housing the shrine. Mondatta quickly caught up to him. “Brother.” When he didn't answer, Mondatta raised his voice, “Tekhartha Zenyatta!”

“I am busy with the Iris, please go away. You are making a scene.”

“ _I_ am making a scene? Look at you!” After shouting, Mondatta pulled back a bit and asked quietly, much more gently, “What happened back there?”

“Disquiet has made a home in my soul,” Zenyatta confessed, crossing his arms over his chest and looking away. Mondatta floated down to sit across from him. “It even has its own toothbrush now.”

“I have noticed. You have missed almost every midnight meditation session for the past week. People are talking.” The younger monk said nothing. “I think we both know the cause of this.”

“Would you prefer if I leave him in isolation? We do not know what he could do. Only two and a half months have passed since his arrival.” Zenyatta picked up a handful of petals from the shrine and turned them over in his hands.

“And?”

“And he could still hurt himself! Ideation does not simply disappear.”

“Brother, we have known each other for nearly two decades. I can tell when you are only scratching the surface of your thoughts.” Mondatta fidgeted with his kasaya. “I think… that you worry he will abandon you if you leave him to his own devices.”

“I want to help him,” Zenyatta asserted firmly.

“Do you?” Mondatta tilted his head skeptically.

“Yes.” The older monk tucked his chin down further. “Yes!” Zenyatta repeated.

“Then you must figure out what you want out of this. Healing is not a one-way street. You must learn to trust Genji, then he will trust you. Being around one another constantly is unhealthy, expecting each other to be even moreso.”

“Do you get tired of being right about everything all the time?” Zenyatta asked wryly, flicking an orb and letting it slowly float towards Mondatta.

“Not really, no.”

“I hate that I knew you would say that.”

“Mm. So, what were you talking about with the Iris?” Mondatta asked, twirling the sphere in the air.

“She said you need to be more humble.”

“Ah. Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mmmm i wanted to put a cliffhanger in this chapter but nahh
> 
> Sorry this got released late! I was watching the new Wolfenstein trailer on Sunday night while writing and it triggered me pretty badly so I couldn't finish this and be satisfied w it til today <_>
> 
> a million thank yous to Micah for beta-ing and helping out with story stuff <3333333
> 
> Also if you ever wanna hmu the best place to do so is on my Twitter @Autolikescake!


	5. zenyatta's secret(s)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> zenyatta's siblings embarrass him part 1/3345 and he FINALLY opens up to genji a little
> 
> genji does some sick flips and makes a phone call
> 
> guest starring Jesse McCree as Wingman #1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for graphic violence/riots in a flashback in this chapter! just so you know. it starts at "ZT-4774 listened" so ctrl+f to "holy shit" if you wanna avoid that!

“Ha! I win!” Genji exclaimed as he moved a goat to trap Zenyatta’s fourth tiger. The crowd of children that had gathered around the two in the yard broke into cheers.

“Well done, Genji!” Zenyatta clapped his hands together in celebration. After weeks of playing Bagh-Chal with both Zenyatta and with the children, Genji had managed to defeat the Omnic while playing as the goats. Genji smirked at him, a few of his scars barely peeking over the edge of his mask as he smiled.

“Hey, why is no one in class?”

“Today is Saturday, Genji.”

“Ah, right, of course.” Truthfully, the man had not bothered keeping track of the days since his arrival. Zenyatta had stopped offering him a tablet to check the news, though they did occasionally play games on it together. He knew two, maybe three months had passed, but not much more than that. His brain told him he should feel guilty for going off the grid as he had, but he had not enjoyed existing this much in years, and it was because of… well, he should avoid jumping to conclusions, he thought to himself. Still, maybe he ought to call someone.

Earlier in the morning, a few of the larger Omnics had plowed snow off the main walkways, creating huge piles of it against the walls of the buildings. By noon, the children had already created a network of tunnels through the vast pile of snow. Naturally, they abandoned their hours of work to start a long-jump competition to see who could land the furthest in the snow.

With encouragement from the children, Genji took a running start and dove into the humongous pile of snow. Before impact, a small child popped out from underneath. Genji gasped and twisted himself out of the way, landing deep in the snow, which piled on top of him like icy waves crashing down. “Genji!” He heard Zenyatta’s voice approach him from above and finally came face-to-face with his legs. “Are you alright?” Genji looked past Zenyatta’s mustard pants and saw that the Omnic had power-trudged his way towards Genji, who had landed several yards into the pile. The cyborg wiped the snow from his mask onto his sleeve and smiled with his eyes. “Don’t worry, I’m fine.” Zenyatta offered his hand, which Genji used to pulled himself up.

“Perhaps that is enough action for right now, would you like to rest for a bit?” Genji wanted to stay and play with the kids, but Zenyatta had a point. Plus, he was freezing. They walked together to Genji’s room. When they arrived, he threw his coat onto the mattress and sat down before noticing the tablet on the table in the corner. “Actually, Zenyatta?”

“Yes, Genji?”

“Could I use your tablet to make a call? There are some… things I need to take care of. Personal matters.”

“Of course. I will give you some privacy.” With that, Zenyatta left the room to check on the horses in the meantime. Genji grabbed the tablet and struggled to remember the secure line for the number he needed to reach. At last, he remembered the ridiculously long string of numbers and keyed them in.

He let out a sigh of relief when, after a few rings, the line picked up. “Hello?”

Genji cleared his throat. “Hi, J- McCree?”

“Genji, ‘that you?” A deep, oaken voice responded over the line.

“Yes, it’s me, h-”

“You’re alive?!”

“Yes…?”

“Haven't heard from you in months, 'thought you died!”

“I have... been traveling.”

“Haven't we all,” McCree muttered. “So, uh… what’ve you been up to?”

“Is… is this line secure?”

“Wait a hot second, I’ll check.” Genji heard some beeps and taps. A few moments later, McCree spoke again. “Yep, secure as can be.”

“Thank you. Well, I traveled a lot. Went to Egypt and Morocco for a bit, then Syria. It was beautiful.”

“Last time I went to Aleppo was before the Crisis. Gorgeous city.”

“It still is, they’ve really grown in the past few years from what the locals told me. If you ever put in those vacation days Blackwatch doles out, you should go.”

“Sure, sure,” McCree chuckled. “So, where’re you at now?”

“Nepal, at the Shambali monastery.”

“Huh, never took you for a spiritual man.”

“Mm, you never knew me before Blackwatch. By the way, how are things?”

“Things are… well, they could be better.” He hesitated, then sighed. “Hell, might as well be honest, the world’s gone to shit since... y'know." Genji did know. He had to guess that over a year, maybe two had passed since Overwatch had fallen. McCree swallowed. "Shit, sorry, I–"

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Genji assured him, voice breathy. “I am so, so sorry, Jesse.”

“Yeah, me too. God,” McCree said softly. “I've had my fair share of fun on the run here but it's just… been really hard.” He took a deep breath and sighed. “No one to talk about it with since everyone split up, y'know?" Dead air. After getting himself together, McCree broke the silence. “Anyway, sorry fer derailin’, what were we talkin’ about before?”

Genji rolled over on his mattress and rested his hand under his chin. “I met someone.”

“Oh…” McCree sounded slightly resigned. “Who are they?”

“He is a member of the Shambali, actually.”

“Wait, wait, wait, hold up–yer not shackin’ up with Tekhartha Mondatta, are ya?!”

“What?! No, no, God, no.” Genji snorted at the mere idea. “Oh, speaking of, Mondatta actually remembered you from London.”

“Huh, the guy’s seen so many crowds, guess I should be flattered he remembers me.”

“Who could forget you, Jesse McCree?” Genji giggled and sighed. God, he had not realized how much he missed hearing an old voice.

“Awright, fair. So, who’s the lucky fella?”

“Well… we have not done anything yet, but…”

“But…? Gimme a name!” McCree whined.

“Patience. His name is Zenyatta. Tekhartha Zenyatta.”

“Ohohoho, you sneaky boy, yer dating his second-in-command?” McCree made his grin apparent through his voice.

“Shut up.” Genji blushed. If anyone had stepped into his room now, they would see his beet-red face. “We are not dating,” he declared emphatically.

“Ah, ya haven’t told him how you feel yet.”

“Genji?” Zenyatta tapped a knuckle against the door.

“Shit, I have to go!”

“But–” Genji hung up before McCree could finish. “Yes, Zenyatta?” He called out.

“I was wondering if you would like to join us in working on the clothing drive, if you are feeling rested enough.”

“Let me get my coat on, I’ll meet you downstairs.” Genji replaced his mask and threw his coat over himself.

“So, are we organizing clothes, or…?” Genji asked as they rounded the corner to enter the room where the drive took place. An Omnic unfamiliar to Genji stood over one of the cutting tables, unrolling fabric and gliding through it with scissors. Next to them, Cheebo chattered away excitedly. The Omnic said something funny, making Cheebo burst into laughter and pull them into a hug. As Genji and Zenyatta approached the two Omnics, Cheebo noticed them and gave a wave.

“Good afternoon,” The Omnic next to Cheebo greeted in a deep contralto, not turning to look at the pair as they sliced through the cloth. A saffron kasaya covered their rose gold metal chassis and ornate engravings of Omnic writing bore into their wide face.

“Greetings, my dear sister,” Zenyatta replied, “It comforts me to know that you have returned safely from your journey. When did you arrive?”

“Just an hour ago. And who might this be? A new preschool student of yours?” She teasingly motioned to Genji with the scissors.

Before Genji could say anything, Zenyatta answered, “Ah! Apologies. This is my friend, Genji, he... joined us three months ago. Genji, this is Ulya. She just returned from a mission to Numbani with a few of our siblings.”

“Oh, Cheebo was talking about you! It's lovely to meet you, I hope you’re enjoying your stay with us.” If Ulya could have emoted, she would have smiled.

“May we offer assistance?” Zenyatta asked. Genji wished he had not. “I am sure you and Cheebo could use more hands.” 

“Hmm.” Ulya turned to look at Genji with a hand hooked under her chin as if deep in thought. “How’s your sewing?”

“Excellent,” Genji said impulsively.

The dots on Zenyatta’s forehead flickered in surprise. “You never mentioned that you could sew.”

Genji shrugged. “It never came up.” Ulya beckoned for them to follow her to a table low to the floor surrounded by square cushions. The sienna rug underneath matched the walls and pilasters of the room. On top of the table sat various rolls of fabric, a few pair of scissors, a pincushion, and a box full of spools. Four sewing machines sat evenly spaced out. Ulya tapped a small beacon on the table and a holographic diagram of clothing patterns materialized flat on the surface. “This is what you will work with. I’ll be over at the counter with Cheebo if you need any help.” Zenyatta thanked her and sat down on a cushion. Genji sighed and crossed his arms as he sat down. “Is something wrong, Genji?”

“I can sew, but I do not enjoy it as I used to.” He picked up a needle and held it up.

“Ah. Did something happen?” Zenyatta started to cut fabric to match the pattern on the table, but kept his gaze on Genji, who remained silent. He continued to twirl the needle around in his fingers while Zenyatta’s holographic hands materialized to begin pinning fabric. Genji took a deep breath, then spoke.

“Hanzo and I used to sew, but I wasn’t any good at it.” Genji peered through the needle’s eye, then dropped it on the table and stood up to walk outside.

 

Zenyatta made no protest and continued to work on following the blueprint. Once Genji was out of earshot for certain, Ulya broke the silence. “So,  _ habibi _ , Cheebo has told me about this Genji.” She had begun working on some baby pajamas.

“I see, and what did Cheebo tell you?”

“That the man follows you everywhere like a little puppy.”

“I didn’t say ‘like a little puppy!’” Cheebo protested. “...I said he’s all you ever talk about.”

“That is not true,” Zenyatta refuted, snipping some fabric during the last word. “You have not spoken very much with me recently.”

“Yeah, because you spend all your free time with Genji.” The miniature fans in Zenyatta’s neck whirred, much to the amusement of Cheebo and Ulya. He covered his neck with both hands and waited until the rotors resumed their normal rhythm.

“Have you shown him your… collection?” Ulya cut in.

“No!” Zenyatta shouted, then composed himself. “No. Not yet.”

“It’s not even that embarrassing, why’re you so secretive about it?” Cheebo had stopped sewing and sat on top of the counter to face Zenyatta. “He would probably think it’s cute. Like how you used to keep an autographed photo of Thespion 4.0 on your cei-”

“Do not,” implored Zenyatta. The orbs in his mala spread apart, but his voice remained calm despite the agitation in his body language. 

Ulya eased up on him. “I know I just met Genji, but Cheebo is probably right.” Cheebo leaned against Ulya, who was still hard at work, and pressed the center of their face into her shoulder before looking at Zenyatta. “See? Told you.”

Zenyatta mulled it over and recalled how Mondatta told him he needed to show vulnerability in order for Genji to trust him. “I appreciate your advice and will take it into consideration.”

“Take what into consideration?” Genji leaned against the doorframe behind Zenyatta with one arm crossed over his chest and a hand resting against his faceplate. Zenyatta jumped and whipped his head around. “Ah! We were… well…” he laughed nervously. “I shall tell you later.” Genji raised his eyebrows as he sat down next to the monk. “So, Ulya, how was Numbani?” Zenyatta asked in an attempt to change the subject.

“It was amazing, I told you you should have come with us!” Ulya replied excitedly. “You would be thrilled with how life is for Omnics there. I wish I could say the same for the rest of the world.”

“As do I,” Zenyatta lamented quietly. He eyed Genji, who had just finished half a sleeve and sped through pinning the rest of the outfit, the already-sewn seams neatly parallel with the fabric. “My, my, excellent work, Genji!”

“Ah, thank you,” Genji said, grateful for the mask that hid his blush.

“What happened to not being skilled at sewing?” 

“I, uh, had some practice,” the cyborg muttered.

“Oh?”

“...Do you... know what conventions are?” Cheebo let out a big guffaw.

Genji spent the next few hours chatting with the other Shambali members. Ulya spoke about how she arrived ten years ago as a cybersecurity specialist from Beirut and met Cheebo along the way in Kathmandu, where they worked as a tour guide. The two had stayed together ever since. Other Omnics trickled in to assist with sewing and caught up on the conversation before sharing their stories.

All but Zenyatta had talked: instead he patiently listened while he worked, despite having heard all of their stories before. “You have been quiet,” Genji pointed out to Zenyatta when the conversation had reached a lull. “When did you… you know…?”

“Wake?” Zenyatta asked. Genji nodded at him. The monk hesitated, the dots on his head flickering a little. Ulya beckoned for him to say something.

“It happened fifteen years ago,” he started, “during a festival for Omnics in Tel Aviv. The city had assigned us to emergency cleanup in case anything went awry. Of course, with pervasive anti-Omnic sentiment, something did. My brother, Mondatta–well, he was not my brother yet at the time–took the stage as a rising activist. He implored the audience, not just the citizens of Tel Aviv, but those who lived and worked in it, to think beyond their routines. The team I worked on stayed on standby during the speech. They called us Zerizut or ZT Units because of our eagerness to serve. Back then I had not yet chosen my name: my fellow Omnics called me ZT-4774, humans called me ‘get back to work, you ungodly scrap heap.’” Zenyatta chuckled uncomfortably. 

 

 

 

ZT-4774 listened through his protective headgear to the speaker on stage. According to the posters that organizers had plastered around the city, the Omnic called himself Tekhartha Mondatta. The puffy sleeves of Mondatta’s white blouse billowed in the wind as he gestured to the audience. Israel Defense Force soldiers surrounded the perimeter, the stage floor packed to capacity with Omnics and humans. ZT-4774 drummed his fingers on the first-aid kit slotted in his belt as he looked over the crowd. In the distance, he could see OR-14s patrolling the edge of the venue. The audience cheered every few sentences of Mondatta’s speech. After the end of one of the rounds of applause, the noise continued, but it was not clapping or cheering. ZT-4774 located the source of the commotion: an IDF soldier had fired rubber bullets at a group of humans as one of them tried to clamor their way onto the stage. The one who got closest to Mondatta lay there on the staircase to the left of the stage, heaving hoarsely. Before ZT-4774 could run to attend to her injuries, one of his fellow ZT Units had already taken off.

At that point, the already-tense crowd broke into a brawl. Omnics and humans battered each other with signs that they had made for the event. Over a megaphone, an IDF soldier demanded that the crowd cease. Someone snatched the megaphone out of the soldier’s hand and shouted obscenities into it. Then, it escalated further: drones soared into the air and sprayed tear gas down upon the crowd, people covered their faces in a desperate bid to protect themselves from the lachrymator; some even pulled out gas masks. Clearly, they had come prepared. A low wailing noise resounded across the large space of the venue, dopplering up and down in pitch like a horrific death knell. All around ZT-4774, Omnics began to collapse and convulse on the ground, which a few disgruntled humans took advantage of to gain an upper hand in the fight. It was not an EMP but a wavelength designed to incapacitate Omnic uprisings; the ZT Units had received protective headgear for it specifically should the IDF need to resort to such a method of crowd control. ZT-4774 set to work attending to those injured in the heat of the riot when something caught his attention. Another human trying to rush the stage from downstage center. Suddenly, something snapped within him. ZT-4774 had to save this Omnic. If he did not, when would someone else come around to try and elevate the silenced?

He finished suturing a wounded human and stood up while others fell around him. His fellow Zerizut Units shouted at him to keep helping the humans, but he continued to walk down the aisle towards the stage steps. Somehow, no one had tried to stop him as he made his way onto the stage. Mondatta seized on the ground behind the podium while the human, who had just finished kicking the faces of humans and Omnics trying to drag them offstage, crawled towards the activist, eyes bloodshot. They had no weapons but their fists, opting to snatch Mondatta’s clip microphone and smack the lavalier against his pale faceplate. The Omnic continued to shudder under them.

“Stop!” ZT-4774 shouted in Hebrew, then again in English. They ignored him as he tried to pull them off. He could not drag them off of Mondatta. For the first time in his existence, he felt something coupled with the urge to protect: anger. Suddenly, a stage light that had fallen from above levitated into the air. ZT-4774 watched it hover, confused. He followed it left, right, up, down. The movement of his optics preceded its path. And then it hit him. Well, it hit the human. They fell to the side and ZT-4774 placed a beacon down next to their body so another ZT unit would come to assist them before he scrambled to grab Mondatta and drag him offstage. On his way out of the venue, ZT-4774 snatched headgear from a fallen ZT Unit and threw it on the Omnic. Sure that he had covered a sufficiently safe distance from the riot, ZT-4774 propped the catatonic activist up against the wall. Oil had stained Mondatta’s once-spotless blouse, dripping down his chestplate. The diamond of blue dots on his forehead flickered unsteadily until they finally all reached the same mid-level of brightness. He twitched and leaned forward, startling ZT-4774, who gripped his shoulders to keep him from falling. “Are you alright?” ZT-4774 asked.

“Where am… I?” Mondatta asked slowly. He looked around sporadically. “What happened?”

“Someone started a riot at the festival. Security set off a destabilizing beacon in the midst of it and you collapsed. A human tried to...” ZT-4774 did not finish the sentence. “I was able to stop them.” Mondatta wiped some oil off of his blouse and looked down at it, then moved his gaze up to ZT-4774.

“What do you call yourself?”

“I am called ZT-4774.”

“ZT-4774…” Mondatta firmly gripped ZT-4774’s upper arm with his oil-covered hand. “I owe you my life.”

 

 

 

“Holy shit,” Genji whispered, eyes glued to Zenyatta as he finished the story.

“It was a moment of many firsts for me. The first time someone actually made the effort to ask my name, the first time someone ever expressed true gratitude towards me.” They continued to sew into the early evening. Genji rested his head on Zenyatta’s shoulder, hands moving slower and slower over the fabric. Eventually, every Omnic in the room could hear the snores coming from the snoozing cyborg. Cheebo tapped Ulya’s shoulder and pointed to the pair on the floor. “Uly, look!” She turned and let out a soft “aww.”

“You act as if this is something you have never seen or done before,” Zenyatta muttered. A few of the Omnics chuckled. “Please do not laugh, you will wake him,” he whispered. Genji stirred, then resumed snoring. He continued to nap while Zenyatta’s fellow monks finished their work and left. Before Ulya took off with Cheebo, she suggested, “If you  _ do _ decide to tell him how you feel, try practicing first. Believe me, it helps.”

Zenyatta sat there and stared at the sewing machine, then glanced over to Genji. “Genji…?” He asked quietly. The man said nothing. Zenyatta said his name again, but still he remained asleep. “Genji, I have something that I would like to say,” he whispered, letting an orb float down from his mala into his palms. “We have been together for a few months, and I… hmm, no, not ‘been together.’ We met a few months ago and, well, I must say I have overall enjoyed your… mm. I have enjoyed spending time with you. I know this is a… very difficult phase in your life, but I want you to know that I will stand by you and for you. No matter what, I will be there to help you when you need it. And I l–” Zenyatta paused. “I like you, Genji. I like you a lot.”

“Mm… like you, too.”

“What?” Zenyatta looked over startledly.

Genji responded with a loud snore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen zenyatta is a huge movie buff it's canon. he even has a voice line where he talks about thespion 4.0 (it's spelled like that in his autographed portrait in route 66 instead of thespian, even tho in one poster in-game it IS misspelled as thespian. sorry buddy)
> 
>  ALSO habibi = honey/sweetie in Arabic. Usually ppl use it to refer to their significant other but it's pretty common to use it for family, friends, and even strangers!
> 
> Thanks to @galacticteeth and @novalillies for beta-reading!!!


	6. run genji run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> that damn man keeps showing up in my dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning!!! the beginning of this chapter is VERY nsfw! ctrl+f to "Genji's legs twitched" if you wanna skip that; it won't make you miss out on any plot.

Genji found himself under Zenyatta, hands gripping the tiny bundles of wires around the Omnic’s petite waist. His golden holographic hands caressed Genji all over, two tangled in Genji’s spiky black hair while a third and fourth teased over the sides of his torso.

“Please, please, Zenyatta,  _ please _ ,” he groaned. In response, Zenyatta gently pushed two fingers into Genji’s mouth and moved them in and out while another hand tugged his fingers up against his clit. Zenyatta’s seventh and eighth hands pinned Genji’s hands to the Omnic’s waist and laced their fingers together. Genji wrapped his legs around Zenyatta in an attempt to pull him closer while he sucked and nibbled on the fingers in his mouth. “A little harder,” Genji murmured, unsure of but paying no mind to how he could clearly speak with the digits in his mouth. Zenyatta complied, alternating his fingers in a scissor-like motion over Genji’s wet labia with more vigor than before. Genji closed his eyes and tilted his head back in a moan that vibrated against the Omnic’s slender metal fingers. He tugged and twisted Zenyatta’s wires, eliciting a gasp followed by a quiet moan from the Omnic on top of him. A gentle, warm ache began to build in Genji’s abdomen and under his spine. “Harder, harder, please there, right there, right  _ there _ ,” he whimpered. He wanted to tell Zenyatta how good he was, how gentle and wonderful he was to him, how he wanted to–

“Genji, I saw you ate a bag of peas” Mondatta said out of nowhere. Genji’s glance followed the voice to the Shambali leader, who sat in a lotus position next to the table in the corner of the room. Zenyatta ignored him completely and kept going, fucking Genji as Mondatta tried to give him life advice. “Did you know  _ e. Coli _ is one of the leading causes of death in-”

 

 

Genji’s legs twitched as he forced himself awake, quietly panting. His cheeks felt flushed under his mask and putting a hand down his pajama pants confirmed his suspicions of having soaked the sheets. A quick survey of the room revealed that, much to Genji’s relief, he alone occupied it. He tried to recall when he had gone to bed but had no memory of leaving the clothing drive the night before. His half-asleep brain tempted him with the thought of finishing off what Zenyatta had started in the dream but he decided against it, sure that the Omnic would come in at any moment. A glass of water with sat on the floor next to his bed. The ice had not even started melting yet. Genji popped off his mask and grabbed the chilled glass, downing the water in a few gulps. Someone gently knocked at the door. “Come in!” Genji called out after scrambling to put on his mask. The door creaked open and in stepped Zenyatta carrying a plate of dal bhat.

“I thought you might be hungry since you missed dinner last night, so I brought you some food from our morning meal,” he explained.

“When did I go to bed last night?” Genji asked as he took the plate and removed his mask to dig in.

“You fell asleep during the clothing drive, so I carried you to bed.”

“Ah, did… did you stay here the whole time I was asleep?” Genji asked, trying to hide the worry and embarrassment in his voice.

“For the most part.”

“Define ‘for the most part.’”

“I stayed here until a few minutes ago when I went to get you food.”

“I didn’t… say anything, did I?” Zenyatta’s fans started to whir quietly at the question. “You did, actually.”

“Oh no.”

“Do not worry about it–one rarely has control over what they say in dreams,” Zenyatta assured him. Genji blushed and looked down at his food to hide the pink blooming on his cheeks. “So, you heard what I said then,” he muttered.

“Yes, you said it, then went back to snoring.”

“God, I… ” Genji trailed off. “Sorry you had to hear that.” The lights on Zenyatta’s forehead flickered in confusion.

“Why do you feel remorse over your feelings?”

“Wait, what? What are you talking about?” Genji looked up mid-chew.

“What you said, why do you feel regret for saying it?”

“What… exactly did you hear me say?”

“You said, and I quote, ‘mm… like you too.’”

“Oh. Um.” Genji’s breath caught in his throat. He had no memory of saying that. Zenyatta tilted his head in anticipation. Genji’s heart thumped against his fiberglass rib cage as if trying to escape. Heat rose in his jaw and crept up the sides of his head. He placed his plate of food on the ground and stared at it, then looked up to Zenyatta, back to his food, then to the door. Before Zenyatta could ask him if he was okay, Genji lept up and dashed out of the room with his mask in hand. He sprinted along the snow-covered bridge and past the shrine, cursing himself for not putting on his jacket in his haste to leave. His head spun like a carousel; he needed time alone to think about what this meant for him now. Yes, he had feelings, he knew that already, he just had not given himself time to take a step back and think about them. Better late than never, he supposed. As he neared the building housing the bathroom and showers, he spotted the toddlers playing in their snowsuits with an Omnic chaperone. Their gaze snapped to Genji, and Purnima approached him before he could reach the door and enter the bathroom. “Genji?” She looked up at him with a small chick peeping in her hands, probably the one from before that had had a broken wing. It seemed to be doing marginally better, darting its head around and looking up at the cyborg. “Why are you running?”

“I... am playing hide-and-seek,” Genji lied. Why did he not just say he was using the bathroom? “...with Master Zenyatta.” Purnima perked up and asked, “Oh! Can we play?” Genji shook his head to himself and sighed, “Yes, but this is my spot, and I have to lock the door, okay? Now, go hide.”

“What? You can’t lock the door, that’s cheating!”

“Purnima–”

“Master, Genji is cheating at hide and seeeeek,” Purnima complained to the group’s chaperone. The other children in her cohort oohed and frowned up at the him. Genji shot a panicked look at the Omnic, who gave a confused shrug. He looked back at the door, then twisted it open and locked it behind him. Purnima shouted in protest from outside, but he tuned her out.

Once inside with the door secured, Genji stripped down and tossed his mask and other armor in the sink. After turning on the shower, he gripped his hair and slid his hands down to cup either side of his neck as he sank to the bathroom floor. The water dampened his hair to the point of flatness as he sat there staring at the drain, hands now clasped over his nose. Impulsive thoughts flew through his mind, he thought of leaving, of just disappearing. Kuwait was probably nice this time of year. Leaving would be much less embarrassing than trying to deal with the fact that he had admitted his feelings for Zenyatta in his sleep. He kind of wanted to eat the bar of soap in the dish on the wall, it looked like it would have a nice texture. Taste, not so much. Genji sat there and let the lukewarm water pour over him. Usually he liked to take showers that nearly scalded him, but right then he felt too overwhelmed for anything hotter than the current temperature.

 

Zenyatta floated above the floor in Genji’s room, replaying what had just transpired over and over in his mind.  _ Alright, well, that happened. Perhaps I should have been a little slower. Does he remember when I actually told him how I felt? It would have been better to wait until  _ after  _ he finished his food. Genji tends to act impulsively. Maybe we should work on that. No, I will not bring that up now, what if he runs away again? _ The Omnic collected himself and rose up from the ground to leave, making sure to grab the jacket that Genji had left behind in case he ran into him. He held it in one arm as he headed to the kitchen to help prepare lunch and keep his mind off Genji. Thoughts of the cyborg made their way into Zenyatta’s head anyway. He let out a sigh despite not needing air and dropped samosas into the pan of oil. If Genji were there, he would have tried putting a samosa into his mouth as soon as Zenyatta took it out of the pan. The Omnic giggled at the thought. Genji did not show up to lunch, which confused the other monks and children in attendance. Mondatta asked Zenyatta why Genji had not come to eat and the younger monk shrugged, defeated. The Shambali leader leaned in and whispered, “You seem troubled, my dear brother.”

“And what makes you say that?”

“Your mala is barely floating.” Zenyatta had not even noticed until Mondatta pointed it out. Sure enough, the orbs hovered pitifully below his shoulders.

“Genji has avoided me all morning. Whenever we try to talk, something comes up or he just runs.”

“Interruptions may inconvenience you now, but shall make you feel more grateful for the time you have later.”

“I am not one of your students, brother.”

“Not anymore,” Mondatta corrected him. “But we still have much to learn from each other, you know.” Zenyatta’s forehead lights blinked. “Oh, don’t give me that look,” Mondatta chided, head moving as if rolling his eyes. Luckily for both of them, the loud chatter of the lunchroom had drowned out their noise for anyone trying to listen in on their conversation. Mondatta placed his hand on Zenyatta’s and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Give him some time. Humans always need more time.”

 

Genji sat on the balcony outside his room, flinging his bottomless supply of shuriken into the foggy abyss. A few hours had passed since he and Zenyatta had last spoken, and since the monk had taken his jacket, Genji improvised by layering a few thick blankets over himself to protect his body from the cold. He had half a mind to stop throwing the small projectiles, but no one lived below this side of the mountain anyways, not for miles. When tossing shuriken off the mountain became boring, Genji took one and spun it around his finger until it blurred like the blades of a helicopter. He did the same with his other hand, moving them back and forth as if balancing plates on sticks. Zenyatta had not come back yet; Genji wondered if he was just giving him some space, in which case he felt grateful. When he did return, Genji knew they would actually have to talk. He thought about how to go about it. His mind drew a blank.

With a groan of frustration, Genji leaned back to lay against the wooden planks, shuriken still whirring on his fingers. Zenyatta came into his view as he lay down, standing above him with his arms crossed and his head tilted. “May I ask what you were doing tossing those shuriken like frisbees?” Shit, he had been watching for a while if he saw that. “Uh…” Genji started. “Practi...cing?” Zenyatta stood there like a statue looming above him and saying nothing. When Zenyatta remained silent, Genji knew something had to be wrong. Zenyatta felt upset, and it was his fault. His fault, all his fault. Genji rolled over out of his blanket pile and jumped up, searching for an escape route. Before he could start on the one he had found, Zenyatta broke the silence. “Genji, wait. Please,” the Omnic said in a tone that bordered on begging. In a bid to keep him from bolting right then and there, he held out the jacket for Genji to take. Genji stopped and turned around, telling himself it was only because Zenyatta said “please.” He sighed and looked up at the Omnic, removing his mask. “If you want to talk,” God, did Genji want to talk, “let’s take this inside. Too many eavesdroppers around here,” Genji muttered and took the jacket. Zenyatta nodded and opened the door for him. As soon as they got inside and closed the door, someone rapped a fist against it.

“He is doing this on purpose, I swear,” Zenyatta muttered, shaking his head. “Mondatta, I told you already–”

“Sorry for interrupting but, Genji,” Cheebo said from behind the door, “Someone sent you a package.”

“What? Who?”

“The label doesn’t say. It just has your name in kanji, from what my translator says.” Genji’s blood ran cold. They hoisted the crate inside and met Genji in the middle. He swallowed as he took the box into his hands and set it on the floor. Cheebo waved and left the room after Genji thanked them, giving him and Zenyatta some much-needed privacy. They sat down on the floor in front of the package. Upon closer examination, Genji found that the hand-printed characters on the crate’s packing label did indeed say his name. He could recognize that handwriting anywhere. Impossible, he told himself, hand hovering over the biometric scanner on top of the parcel. “Genji, are you alright?” Zenyatta asked. Genji ignored him. If he did not open it, maybe it would remain impossible. Exhaling and shaking his head, Genji finally took his trembling fist and pressed his thumb to the scanner. It beeped positively and forced the crate open with a hiss. Inside, a pale orange vertical envelope addressed to “My Little Sparrow” in kanji sat on top of a wrapped-up rectangle, which rested upon a grey haori–his haori. He picked up the flimsy envelope, something he had only seen in old movies and stationery stores, and turned it over in his hand. On the back, the sender had written the word he had dreaded: her name.

The paper of the envelope crinkled as his grip on it tightened. His jaw quivered. This had to be some sort of sick joke, but the handwriting matched hers perfectly. He took a shuriken from his arm and sliced the top of the envelope open, pulling a letter out of it. His eyes started at the greeting written vertically on the right side of the page. The stationery had faint pictures of peaches on it. He read the blue-inked letter in silence:

 

_ My Dear Little Sparrow, _

_ As another year draws to a close, as many have since we last spoke, let me be the first to wish you a happy thirtieth birthday. As you enter your third decade of life, allow me to preface it with an apology. While I know that millions of apologies could not even begin to assuage the wounds that I have surely inflicted upon you in my absence, you may recall that your father and I always strove to teach you and your brother that forgiveness begins one step at a time. Surely you have a thousand questions begging to be asked, so I will answer a few for you. _

_ What likely baffles you is why I have elected to write to you on paper, the reason being that I hoped to keep any communications I make exclusive to paper and inaccessible to hackers. I left Hanamura for an important clan operation, that, as you may have guessed, went awry. I could not return as I feared the process of re-entering the country through customs would allow our enemies to further sabotage our plans and wipe the rest of us out. They killed my brother, your uncle, and I had no choice but to hide until things blew over. I kept a close eye on the family and it agonized me to my very core that I could not be there for you and Hanzo when your father’s condition took a turn for the worst. It broke my heart to not even have the ability to speak to him in his final days, something we both preemptively made our peace with before I embarked on what became a suicide mission. The three of us never had the chance to grieve together properly, something that I will always regret. Although it is, of course, traditional for the eldest son to make the arrangements for the funeral, it still pains me that I could not be there for Hanzo and you during the process. Even with all of my channels, I could not have possibly predicted what the elders would make Hanzo do to you, I could not save my own son from his brother. Even now, I cannot begin to imagine the pain and suffering you have endured, physically, emotionally, and psychologically. Death changes people. Betrayal hardens them. We both know this from personal experience. _

_ The question that must be burning you the most is how I managed to track you down. I still have my contacts from my info broker days, but it took me years to find you. The UN has a fairly new habit of keeping things locked up tight. I thought I had lost my youngest son, I wept for you, my darling boy, I grieved and buried you in my mind as I had your father. I never foresaw the prospect of having to outlive my own child, and it brings me great relief to know that I no longer have to. _

_ Forgive me for not telling you where I am or where I have been; I know you must have many more questions. Should you wish to reply, though I will not fault you for deciding not to, you may send your response to P.O. Box X9402 at Angel de Miraflores on Jardín 3 in Lima, Peru. _

_ Please take care of yourself since it is cold. _

 

_ Love always, _

_ Okaasan _

_ P.S. I sent someone to Hanamura to get you a few things from your room as well as some of your favorite snacks.  _

 

Tears blotted the stationary and formed translucent dots on the paper. Genji frowned deeply at the letter and let it crumple in his death grip, throwing it to the side of the room. His shoulders started shaking. He remembered the way his father looked, almost skeletal in his last moments of life. Genji’s mind replayed the sound of his death rattle as he and Hanzo held each other’s hands to pull the plug from their father’s life support. He recalled the somber scene in which he and Hanzo picked his father’s bones up with chopsticks and placed them into his urn, the only time anyone would ever pass an object from one pair of chopsticks to another. The months after Sojiro’s death and leading up to Genji’s now felt like a blur. His thoughts rewinded to the look his mother gave him as she walked out the door with her suitcases for her trip. Resigned, already in mourning. Sorrow boiled to anger in Genji’s chest.

“I-If she hadn’t faked her death, maybe I wouldn’t have died,” Genji spat through tears. Zenyatta wanted to ask what he meant by “died,” but said nothing. “Maybe I would still be home and loved and. Fuck. She could have prevented  _ so much _ . Her sway with the elders… god, I could’ve had a  _ normal  _ life. A happy life. What the fuck.” Zenyatta stayed silent, just letting Genji talk through his emotions. Genji pulled the brown rectangle from out of the box and furiously unwrapped it. He let out a short scream of frustration and tossed the photo frame back onto the grey haori in the box as if it had burned him just by holding it. Behind the glass frame sat a picture of him, younger and with much greener hair, and his brother Hanzo. His gut told him to throw the photo frame off the cliff outside, but for once, he ignored it. After glaring at it for about fifteen seconds, Genji picked up the frame again and set it on the ground so he could take the haori out of the crate. Zenyatta placed a hand on Genji’s back, light enough for him to be able to pull back quickly if Genji protested, but he did not. Instead, he continued to sob, tears staining the grey silken fabric that he now held tight against his chest. The Omnic moved closer to Genji and began rubbing circles into his back as he cried. “It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not. Fair. She… how could she do this to me. She  _ knew _ ,  _ she fucking knew _ what would have happened if she left.” He leaned against Zenyatta and let the tears drip down onto the Omnic’s dhoti. “Sorry, I…”

“Just let yourself feel,” Zenyatta cooed. “I am here, I am here for you.” Genji wiped his eyes on the haori, not caring if it stained the expensive fabric, and rested his head on Zenyatta’s thigh. He cried, his head and chest overflowing with grief and anger. Betrayal had hardened him in a way, as his mother had said, but it sure made him more prone to breaking down than he had ever been before. Zenyatta rubbed his arm up and down, considering for a moment giving Genji an orb of harmony to help calm him but deciding against it; better to let him work through this than to stave off how he actually felt. From where he lay, Genji reached into the box and fished out a bag of shrimp crackers. Crying and forgoing lunch had made him hungry. He popped the bag open and crunched the crackers between his teeth while still laying on Zenyatta’s thigh, hiccuping and swallowing before speaking again.

“Oh god, why did I ever like these, they suck so bad,” he sniffed with a chuckle while continuing to stuff more of the puffy crackers into his mouth. Zenyatta laughed gently with him and ruffled Genji’s hair. “Why do humans insist on eating things that they do not even enjoy?”

“Iunno. Better than nothing, I suppose,” Genji replied after another mouthful of crackers. After finishing the bag, Genji sat up and looked at Zenyatta. His eyes had softened to a deep amber, though the sclera remained a light pink from him having just cried for several minutes. Zenyatta waited patiently for him to say something–Genji’s silence tended to put him on edge, but he would not admit it. The cyborg smiled softly and planted his hand on the ground next to Zenyatta’s leg for leverage. He leaned in and planted a soft kiss on the Omnic’s cheek. 

Zenyatta chuckled nervously, “What was that for?” and held a palm to where Genji had kissed him. The fans in his neck and chest whirred beneath his metal plating.

“You told me earlier to just let myself feel.” Genji took Zenyatta’s hand from his cheek and pressed a kiss between his knuckles. “Well, that is how I feel,” Genji smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah gosh sorry this chapter took so long!!! i had a medical procedure tuesday and was in a lot of pain/kind of out of it so i couldn't finish this until now. thank you so much for your patience!!! y'all rock :D
> 
> thanks to @galacticteeth for beta-ing! <3
> 
> Also, I am now taking commissions! Check out my pinned tweet on twitter @autolikescake :)


	7. worms? in MY can?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's party time! it's party time!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who spent two hours retconning? This guy!
> 
> Here is what has changed:  
> Genji is now in his “Classic” silver and green body, both of his arms are now prosthetic, but beneath his armor he still has his left upper torso and chest all the way up to his head as flesh (note that in-game he says “The heart of a man still beats inside me,” which I have always taken literally). He still experiences severe albeit a different kind of body dysphoria in this form.
> 
> Genji being in his Blackwatch body in this fic is something that has bothered me for months and since the Doomfist reveal trailer confirmed that he had his current in-game body (along with a rewatch of the original cinematic trailer for the game) before leaving Overwatch, I decided to make this change so that my work is more conducive to the canon timeline.
> 
> Edited chapter six so that he just turned thirty, not twenty-nine, which accompanies the next change:  
> Over two years have passed since the fall of Overwatch. If you go back to chapter five and reread Genji’s phone conversation with McCree, I have edited it so that McCree now says in passing that everyone has split up since the closure of Overwatch and hints that he is now on the run as a mercenary. I have made this edit for a very particular reason that you will *hopefully* see in the coming weeks.
> 
> A couple of syntax changes in Zenyatta’s and Mondatta’s speech: I dropped a lot of the contractions since their dialogue in-game and in “Alive” respectively has very few, if any.
> 
> Tl;dr Genji is in his classic Overwatch skin now and this takes place four years before Recall, so two after the fall of Overwatch as an organization.

Genji’s heart pounded in his chest as he awaited a response from Zenyatta, who looked as if he were still processing what just happened. Only the sound of the Omnic’s servos humming in his chest permeated the silence. Then, suddenly and without warning, Zenyatta cupped Genji’s jaw with his free hand and leaned in until their cheeks rested against each other. “I must confess I feel the same way,” he whispered, squeezing Genji’s hand and brushing his thumb over it. “We have only known each other for three months but in that time, so much has happened. You have worked through so much, Genji. I could not be more proud of you. And I must admit you have helped me do the same.” 

The cyborg chuckled bashfully, “We have learned a lot from each other.” Zenyatta thought about how to put the question that burned incessantly in his mind. Genji did not move from where his cheek rested against the pleasantly warm metal of Zenyatta’s face. Once he had composed what he wanted to say, Zenyatta pulled back from Genji to gaze into his eyes, now taking the cyborg’s other hand with his own. “And you fill my world with a happiness I never knew could have existed before meeting you.” Genji’s scarred cheeks flushed a deep pink. Zenyatta “Genji, nothing would make me more joyful than to spend each day of my existence with you, growing together as partners and as individuals.”

Genji let out a sigh of relief and could not help but grin. “I would like that, too.” Zenyatta’s jieba flickered in surprise. “You would?” Genji nodded. The Omnic let out a short chuckle that one could have easily mistaken for a kalimba as he wrapped his arms around Genji. Their shared joy and affection for each other overwhelmed the room with its palpability. Neither wanted to let go of the other, content with remaining in each other’s arms as long as the other felt comfortable. Finally, Zenyatta let go. “Is something wrong?” Genji asked, brow furrowed in concern for his new boyfriend.

“No, no,” Zenyatta assuaged, rubbing Genji’s upper arms with his thumbs. “I… there is something I would like to do.” His voice deepened during the last few words, which sent a shiver down Genji’s spine.

“Oh?” The cyborg raised his eyebrows and smirked. 

Zenyatta slid one hand down to Genji’s waist and hooked the other under his chin. “Is this alright?” Genji’s smile softened and he nodded.

He began to close the distance between Genji’s lips and where his own mouth would be, head tilted in anticipation. Then he stopped suddenly.

“There is one thing you should know about Omnic kisses–”

“You already electrify me, a little shock won’t hurt,” Genji assured him.

“How do you know–”

“I’ll tell you later, I promise.” Genji wrapped his hands around the monk’s tiny waist. Taking him at his word, Zenyatta leaned back in to press where gold met silver in the middle of his face against Genji’s slightly-parted lips, opening his jaw just a little. He released small, short shocks that made Genji’s mouth tingle and moved his hands up to ruffle the cyborg’s hair. Genji eased into the surprising warmth of Zenyatta’s faceplate and eagerly returned the kiss, hands cupping his brass jaw. He would save asking why he never opened his mouth before for later. His breath picked up a little at the feeling of Zenyatta tugging at his spiky tufts of hair. 

After several kisses, they found themselves giggling every time the cyborg had to pull back and rest his forehead against Zenyatta’s while he caught his breath, both having forgotten that, for Genji, oxygen was a necessity. When they resumed, the Omnic made gentle cooing noises with each kiss and pulled Genji closer with laughter after receiving several light pecks on the cheek.

That night, they shared the same bed. Of course, it was not the first time the two of them shared the space, but now that they had made their partnership official with each other, it felt much different. It felt more like home. Genji set his mask aside and curled up next to Zenyatta, wrapping an arm around him and resting his cheek on his chassis. The Omnic tousled Genji’s hair and hummed quietly. His mala floated above them like a mobile, drifting in a slow circle. 

“Today was my birthday,” Genji finally said after they lay there in the dark for a while.

“Today was  _ what _ ?” The mala halted to a stop in the air.

“I didn't mention it before, but the letter reminded me. To be honest, I had forgotten about it until then,” he admitted, lifting his head up to look at Zenyatta. 

“If I had known, we would have had a party for you!”

“Parties don't have to be on a person’s actual birthday. When I was a kid, we had them on the closest weekend, and usually, a smaller family gathering on the day of.”

“I see.”

“Don't worry about it,” Genji said as he kissed Zenyatta’s chest.

“May I ask how old you are now?”

“Thirty.”

“Thirty?!”

“What, that's not that old… is it?” Genji looked hurt.

“No, no, of course not,” Zenyatta assured him, stroking his cheek. “But entering a new decade is something to celebrate, is it not?”

“No one has thrown me a party in over two years, Zenyatta.”

“Exactly!”

Genji could not help but smile and scoot up to press a kiss against Zenyatta’s jaw. “Look, parties used to be a big deal for me, a  _ really  _ big one, but,” Genji sighed, “times change. Not that I wouldn't appreciate one,” he said as an afterthought before moving back down to lay his head on the Omnic’s chest. “In any case,” he yawned, “tomorrow will be just another day of the year.”

 

Once Genji’s soft snores had deepened, Zenyatta carefully slid off of the mattress and tucked his boyfriend in before slipping out of the room. He had no intention of letting a whole year pass before Genji had another birthday party. The Omnic hurried his way up to the shrine, completely disregarding the unshoveled snow caking his ankle joints. After asking a few of his fellow monks, he finally found Ulya at her usual study desk. Before approaching, Zenyatta made sure to wipe his feet on the green rug that lay crooked between the doorway through which he had entered and the staircase to the building’s ground floor.

“Sister,” he said. She perked up from reading one of the books piled on her desk and turned, the candles casting shadows into the engravings on her face. “Yes?”

“I require your assistance, and Cheebo’s, if possible.” Zenyatta scanned the room. “Where are they, by the way?”

“Replenishing the petals at the shrine. Is something the matter?”

“No, no.” He shook his head. “Today is Genji’s birthday. He did not even tell me until right before he fell asleep.”

“So you want to throw a party for him.”

“Yes.”

“Why?” She asked. Zenyatta stiffened. He foresaw this but had hoped he would have come up with an excuse better than “Because… because he... should have a party?” His voice scooped up through his usual octave as he finished the sentence. Ulya pressed the tips of her rose-gold fingers together and held them to her face. “Oh, don’t tell me,” she muttered.

“Tell you what?” He asked, trying sound natural.

“Your fans are whirring again,  _ habibi _ ,” Ulya teased, “I can hear them from here.” Zenyatta drew his mala inward in an attempt to muffle the noise. “You told him, didn’t you?” She singsonged. The room became so silent that Zenyatta could practically hear the sound of each individual snowflake landing outside. “As a matter of fact,  _ he _ confessed his feelings for  _ me _ .” Ulya squealed and got up to throw her arms around him, whispering, “Worry not, your secret is safe with me.” She then let go to put her hands on his shoulders. “Though, please do not fault me if word spreads; you know this place is a rumor mill.” A pause. “The others see how you look at him, you know.”

“Please, do not remind me.” An arc of light rolled through the grid of his jieba. “Gossip notwithstanding, will you help?”

“If I had any intention of saying no, I would have done so already.”

“I appreciate your generosity, dear Sister. Though, there is one issue for which I have yet to find a solution.”

“Mm?”

“I do not know whether Genji would feel more comfortable with a party like the ones we usually have, or one more familiar to him.”

“You could always give him two parties. A bigger one with us, then a more private one with him.”

“I had not considered that,” Zenyatta mused.

“Two parties means twice the planning,” Ulya reminded him.

“It is nothing I cannot handle. Our time grows short, let us find Cheebo. But please, let me tell them about Genji when I am ready.”

“Of course. Shall we get Brother Mondatta in on this?” 

“He would never forgive me if I left him out of planning another party,” Zenyatta chuckled. “Let us find Cheebo first.” The two of them made their way down to the small shrine where Cheebo stood, scattering a basketful of petals around the offerings in the center. “ _ Ya rouhi! _ ” Ulya called to them. Cheebo turned, the wind from their kasaya blowing a few of the petals around on the tiles. The dim candles on the floor danced with their movement. “Yeah?” Though Cheebo could not emote, they clearly had a smile in their voice.

“How are our marigolds doing?” Ulya asked.

“They’re fine, blooming nicely.”

“And our lotuses?” 

“Why? Is something special coming up?” The couple looked to Zenyatta, who had been fidgeting with his mala during the exchange. “Brother, would you like to tell them?” Ulya coaxed. Zenyatta crossed his arms and looked askance. “It is–was–Genji’s birthday up until a few minutes ago,” he finally said.

“Oh! So we’re throwing a party?” Cheebo perked up. “Does he know?”

“I think he may find it more exciting if we keep it a surprise,” Zenyatta said. “Will you help us?”

“Sure, my chores are done for the night. Have you asked Brother Mondatta for help yet? Last time we left him out of planning a party, he...” They did not finish the sentence.

“Yes, yes, we are heading to his room now.” Zenyatta interrupted. Cheebo left the basket of petals in the corner and linked arms with Ulya before the three of them took off in search of Mondatta. As expected, they found him in his room, performing a handstand on his finger. The diamond-shaped jieba on his forehead pulsed softly in the darkness. “Brother Mondatta?” Cheebo asked. The gold-chinned Omnic hummed quietly, seemingly unaware of their presence. Or just ignoring it. They repeated, “Brother M–”

“What is it, Sibling Cheebo.”

“I was, well, we–”

“One moment,” Mondatta cut in, “They are almost done making the miniature macaroni and cheese.” If Cheebo had eyebrows, they would have raised them to their limit. “Oh,  _ no _ ,” the Shambali leader lamented, holding his free hand to his faceplate in shock.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Nevermind–they dropped the little dish, but managed to salvage it.” Ulya snorted. “Ah, I see you are not alone,” Mondatta said quietly. Evidently, he had deactivated his cameras to watch the video. “Why do you hate tiny cooking, Sister Ulya?” He asked as if she had personally insulted him.

She shrugged. “What is the point of making food if you do not even eat it?”

“It is an art form.”

“Everyone, please,” Zenyatta tried to assuage the banter. “Brother, I apologize for bothering you during your recharge time, but I have something to ask of you.”

“If all three of you are here at this time of night, something must be wrong.” He turned to look at the three standing at the room’s entrance, cameras now back online. “Is something the matter?” He had not changed from his upside-down position. 

“Zenyatta wants to throw a birthday party for Genji,” Ulya explained.

“Usually I would not impose, but, would you help us?” Zenyatta asked.

“I am flattered that you decided to include me in the planning process this time.” No one dared pry that can of worms open again.

 

Genji splashed through the waves that crashed into him and Zenyatta one after another, sea salt burning his nose as the water smacked him in the face. A group of chicks ran in a line across the sand, peeping while they made their great escape from the encroaching water. After returning to shore, Zenyatta grabbed the bucket they had brought along to collect seashells, taking Genji’s hand as they trudged back to the water’s edge.

“Have you ever put a shell to your ear?” Genji asked.

“No, but–”

“Try it.” Genji pulled a curry comb out of the bucket and handed it to him.

Zenyatta held it to the side of his head. “Oh!” The sound of rain pitter-pattering echoed from within the brush. Sand enveloped their ankles as they sat down to watch a sea slug inch its way through the shallow tide pools. Anemones wrapped around Genji’s left arm like octopi, the polyps tickling his skin. He looked down to the Blackwatch logo on his sternum. Zenyatta squeezed his hand and whispered something.

A klaxon suddenly rang and the couple instinctively turned their heads towards the source, a launch pad set high in the burlywood cliffs and surrounded by plumes of smoke. Vermillion trusses snapped away and a large hariwake koi ascended into the air, joining several others in the sky. Together, they billowed like parade floats among the clouds. Gibraltar. The Málaga mission. Genji’s arm tingled and his breath hitched in his throat. He felt a slender metal hand stroke his hair.

“Here, let me show you something,” Genji said. Bioluminescent rain dripped from the stalactites in the mouth of the cave. “I used to come here a lot,” he told Zenyatta. A dusty belt buckle lay on the ground next to a red towel.

“By yourself?” Genji did not answer. The two of them cuddled together under cool sheets while a fan whirred overhead, a salty breeze wafting in from their veranda.

 

“Good morning,” Zenyatta murmured, his chest vibrating softly against Genji’s hand.

“Mm,” Genji replied groggily. He blinked slowly as the Omnic brushed his hair back.

“Did you sleep well?”

“We went to the beach, collected combs, there were koi rockets,” Genji said, words slurring together in his half-awake state.

“That sounds like a very interesting dream.” Zenyatta leaned in and parted his mouth for a gentle kiss. He ran his hand over Genji’s side and let it wander up his cybernetic spine to the vents in his shoulders. Genji scooted closer and traced a finger around the hexagon embedded in Zenyatta’s chest before he pressed a kiss to it. Smiling sleepily, he brushed his ankle against Zenyatta’s shin and held his waist close, lips ghosting over his cylindrical shoulders while the Omnic played with his hair. “Are you ready to get up and eat?” Zenyatta asked.

“In a few minutes,” Genji yawned again. He resisted the urge to fall back asleep and eventually rolled onto his back to sit up. Then he remembered. “Yo.”

“Hmm?” Zenyatta lay on his side to look at Genji.

“How come you never opened your mouth before?”

“I have no need to when producing speech. Doing so would only serve an aesthetic purpose, perhaps to make one seem more human. Of course, I could do so for other reasons,” Zenyatta teased. “But I have not needed those until now.”

“So it’s just less work.”

“Mm. Besides, I would look like a fish if I opened and closed my mouth constantly while I talked.”

Genji raised his eyebrows skeptically. “Try me.”

“My name is Tekhartha Zenyatta. I live in Nepal. My boyf–”

“No, stop,” Genji giggled and hooked a hand under Zenyatta’s chin to stop it from moving before leaning in to kiss him. “Okay, let’s get up.”

Zenyatta met Genji outside of the bathrooms after his shower and they walked together to the cafeteria. “Why are the lights off?” Genji asked as they stepped into the doorway. Suddenly, a circle of candles lit in the center of the room. The lights came on, revealing the Omnics and humans that had been hiding in the dark. Holographic streamers hung from the beams on the ceiling.

“Happy birthday, Genji!” they all cheered in unison. Genji’s cheeks turned a bright pink and he turned to Zenyatta. “You did this for me?” He grinned, resisting the urge to kiss him.

“I did not want to wait another year.” 

“Quick, come and blow out the candles!” Cheebo called from the center. Genji and Zenyatta made their way through the circle of people, finally arriving at a tray holding a large cookie layered on top of ice cream. Thirty candles flickered on top of the cookie while a pile of marigolds and lotuses lay scattered around its perimeter. Genji sat down in front of the enormous platter and patted the space to his right for Zenyatta to join him. Everyone sang “ _ Janma din ko Subhakamana _ ” and continued singing even after Genji blew out the candles per tradition.

“The last time anyone celebrated a birthday for me,” Genji said when they finally finished, “my commander woke me up at six o’clock in the morning singing… ah, I forget the name of it, but he was holding a giant cake and next thing I knew, Captain A–our captain smashed my face into it. So, thank you all for not doing that,” he chuckled and the crowd joined in.

“I assume you would not like us to do the same?” Mondatta asked, taking a seat diagonally from Genji and next to an OR14 who introduced himself as Idina.

“Please do not,” Zenyatta said.

Before they sliced the ice cream cookie, Mondatta called everyone to attention. “Today, we are honoring Genji as he enters a new decade of life. We ask that the Iris, all-encompassing, guides him through this next part of his journey. Peace be upon you.”

“Thank you,” Genji said. He cut the first slice for himself, but before he could eat it, Zenyatta tapped him on the shoulder. “It is customary to have others feed you a piece first, then you do the same.”

“Oh.” Zenyatta picked up the piece and offered it to Genji, who leaned in and took it quickly before the ice cream started to melt. After swallowing, he asked, “So, do I…?”

“That is not necessary, but I appreciate the gesture,” Zenyatta chuckled.

Ulya, Cheebo, Mondatta, Idina, and Zenyatta talked while Genji gave small pieces of cake to the schoolchildren, who smeared the cookie crumbs and ice cream on his face in turn. He could not help but wonder how they had gotten the ingredients at such short notice; he knew the kitchens had no chocolate or ice cream. Once everyone had finished their dessert, they had their morning meal of momo soup. Those who finished eating began trickling outside to play games; although it was Monday, with the entire monastery in attendance for the party, that meant the children could tag along with their teachers, too. 

Purnima challenged Genji to a match of Bagh-Chal in the courtyard, which he lost as the Tiger player. Two of the toddlers had started a game of jump rope while a few of the older ones had set up a game of marbles. Mondatta and Idina brought out a giant carrom board, which the teenagers descended upon immediately. They partied well into the afternoon and, when it became clear to Zenyatta that Genji had run out of energy to socialize, the two of them returned to his room for some much-needed decompressing.

“Sorry, do you mind if I have some alone time?” Genji asked as he slipped out of his heavy overcoat.

“Not at all! I have something planned for the two of us later tonight, but please, take all the time that you need.” After Genji pecked him on the cheek, Zenyatta made his way outside, presumably to deal with wrapping up the festivities. Face pressed into his folded overcoat, Genji let out a muffled scream of both delighted affection and severe anxiety.

Briefly, the cyborg pondered what his boyfriend had planned for that evening, but the reality of sensory overload quickly washed over him before he could think too much about it. Genji had not socialized with that many people in one sitting since the last big party he attended at Shimada Castle, not even when he had to rub shoulders with dignitaries during Overwatch. Usually, galas in Switzerland or wherever his missions took him entailed eating as much free caviar as possible and sneaking soda crackers into his shuriken slots while McCree introduced him to people. As a party trick, he would launch the crackers into McCree’s mouth from across the room. Sometimes he carved an ice sculpture upon request, much to the dismay of Commanders Reyes and Morrison (and to the amusement of Captain Amari). 

After dressing down, Genji sat in the lotus position on the rug in the room’s center and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath in and held it, letting his anxieties bubble to the surface before exhaling.  _ Open your mind _ , Zenyatta had told him in previous meditation sessions. In the past, Genji had found that revisiting familiar places helped him concentrate. Inhale, exhale. Gibraltar seemed like a good idea.

Clear water rolled past where he sat in the sand, sea foam leading the charge against the shore. Another breath, slower, deeper, still unsteady. A cocoon of water swirled around him. He swallowed and continued to breathe in defiance, letting the water fill his nose and lungs. This was not real, no water could drown him here. He had the power to let it in, he had the power to expel it, too. A breath out. The bubbling in his throat felt all too familiar. It seemed like he had been treading water for hours, desperate to keep his head above the surface of the blade. His body lay smeared on the tatami mat.

This was not working. Should he get Zenyatta? No, he could work through this, just as he had dozens of times before. He knew asking for help did not make him weak, but he had no intention of breaking his focus. Tears stung his eyes as he forced himself back to Gibraltar. He could remember the incessant dripping of water from the stalactites and the way the towel and sand felt on his skin. A belt buckle clattered to the ground, the sound echoing against the rocks. Breathe in, breathe out. The ebb and flow of the waves began to sync up with his breathing. Better, he told himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh thanks for sticking by me, y'all! Sorry it took so long for me to get this chapter out. I went through a bunch of procedures in the past month and a half (including having to stay in isolation for five days after taking radioactive iodine to destroy the rest of my cancer cells) to get a bunch of medical stuff squared away. But I'm now 100% cancer free, so that's cool!!!!!! ANYWAY, here are some end notes:
> 
> “Ya rouhi” - “You are my Soul” (which means “my dear beloved”) in Arabic
> 
> The tiny cooking video Mondatta was watching is [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k6skCXMTLYo). The ending shook me to my core.
> 
> The song Gabe sang to Genji on his birthday (as he does for every Blackwatch member) is [“Las Mañanitas (The Little Mornings),”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j11cQ9Lrx9Y) a traditional Mexican birthday song that is sung to a person in the early morning on their birthday. It is also typical for the birthday person to have their face smashed into a cake by a relative or friend.
> 
> “Janma din ko Subhakamana” is a traditional Nepalese birthday song; unfortunately I could not find much information about it since I could not find the title written in actual Nepali, only in the Roman alphabet.
> 
> Originally, Mondatta was going to make a big speech about the tenets of the Iris, which would encompass different parts of the human eye, and ask them to guide Genji through this new part of his life. A friend pointed out that it was rooted in a biological metaphor, and as Omnics who are not trying to be human, it would not make much sense for the Shambali’s core beliefs to rely on metaphors related to human biology. The speech is below:
> 
> “Let the Pupil, a way to focus, bring Genji many joyful things, and remind him that one is never too old to learn something new. Allow his lenses, the culmination of his experiences up to this point, unique as one’s code or DNA, clarify, rather than cloud his judgment. May the Ciliary Body allow Genji to live without feeling overwhelmed and for the Fovea to aid him in seeing the immediate. The Choroid, friends and family, shall surround him with nourishment for his Retina, his view of the world. And let the Optic Disc serve as a reminder that he, like all of us, are not omniscient. May the Cornea aid him in remaining focused in his daily life and let the Vitreous Humor keep his worldview intact, though ever-evolving. Lastly, allow the Sclera, which contrasts with the Iris, to encourage him to continue to question the world as it appears around him."
> 
> Thanks to @galacticteeth for beta-ing and to @strmies, @upsetspacecadet, and @novalillies for all their helpful feedback!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This is my first fic that I've posted online--I have a few other Overwatch fics that I'd like to post once I clean them up and stagger out chapters. Let me know what you think/what you'd like to see as their relationship develops!


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